


Credence

by scarecrow_horses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drug Use, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 70,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarecrow_horses/pseuds/scarecrow_horses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cre·dence (n.) - <i>Acceptance as true or valid; belief.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in May of 2004.
> 
> One of my very early Spike/Xander fics, written at the same time I was embarking on the epic of 'Changes'. This fic is very dark. There are some nasty mental manipulations going on, there is coercion and there is (explicit) torture. The character deaths have already happened, and so refer to *other* major characters. The rape is not explicit and is mostly in the past, the non-con is ongoing and not actually acknowledged as such by the characters. There is mention of intravenous drug use. 
> 
> AU of Buffy from the end of season five. This was originally posted in 21 chapters of various lengths. I've chosen to post it in three larger blocks, as well as do a little editorial tidying. No major editing.

Spike lit his first cigarette of the day and inhaled deeply - watched the smoke coil up towards the ceiling from his position flat on his back in bed. He felt...all right today. Maybe even good.

_*Getting better.*_

He smoked slowly, letting the tensions of sleep ease out of him. Not a bad day, all together. The sheets were twisted but not shredded. The bedside table was intact. He wasn't hurt anywhere and his mouth didn't taste of blood. So, an easy day - an easy sleep. He leaned sideways and stubbed out the cigarette then pushed himself slowly upright. Still a little weak, a little dizzy. A persistent shakiness that wouldn't go away until a couple of hours after he'd fed. He shuffled across hardwood and scattered rugs to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it run good and hot. There was a greyish metallic powder dulling his skin that was chalky and very fine. He could taste it in his mouth under the smoke and it wasn't pleasant. He uncapped the bottle of whiskey that was on the tub edge and took a long swallow, washing the taste _down_ but not quite away.

_*Better after I eat.*_

He got into the shower and scrubbed, strong soap full of cloves and mint and verbena - strong enough that he could smell it most of the night - taste it in his sinuses and drive out the lingering taint of rotting tin.

_*Fucking bastards.*_

He shampooed his hair and rinsed it and then stood under the spray for long minutes, just letting the warmth sink in. He felt cold a lot - more than he ever used to. It would pass, when he'd fed. But for now the near-scalding water was Nirvana, and he'd made sure this place had a hot-water heater that would shame most hotels. And a tub that could double as a small pool for extended soaks on those days when the breeze of the Sound was chill and full of rain.

He reluctantly turned the water off after twenty minutes and got out - dried off and fixed his hair, gong for 'spiky' tonight instead of slick. It just felt like a _*heh*_ spiky kind of night. He pulled on jeans and vest and a black shirt of heavy Marseilles silk; raised black on black stripes that felt good under his fingers. Had to look good for work. Touch of kohl, barest trace of color to his lips. He was still just a little...white, around the edges. Vivian said his mouth disappeared some nights when he was feeling off, so please 'tart up' until he was well.

 _*Anything for you, Vivian,*_ Spike thought, smiling to himself. Brush of teeth, quick polish of his boots and he was ready. It was nearly six, the sun down fifteen minutes or less. He grabbed his duster and shrugged it on - loaded lighter and smokes into the breast pocket and then weapons in various other pockets. Straight razor, bo-shuriken, and an ASP baton in its belt holster that, as a civilian, he wasn't supposed to have. Sometimes he just wanted to hurt something, and these were all good for that. Something like two hundred dollars went into his jeans pocket. A quick glance around the flat and he left, locking the massive sliding door behind him, then stepping into the elevator and pulling the steel mesh of door down. It was locked on his floor, making his underground lair almost impregnable. He hummed happily to himself, a little Alice Cooper to start the night off right.

Up and out, into a chill, clear night. Near to freezing, and he hugged his duster around himself and walked briskly down the street, heading for Pioneer Square and the homeless shelter near there. He was feeling too shaky to hunt down something strong - tonight he'd settle for some junkie, get the blood _and_ the drug and be feeling fine by the time he got to work. He lit up a smoke and grinned. It was going to be a fine night.

 

The Union Gospel Mission was crowded - it always was on nights like this, when the sea air carried a bit of the Arctic in it. The overflow had spilled out into the street and surrounding alleys; skinny old men and blowsy old women and tattered kids all huddling and milling and generally trying to survive another below-freezing night. The Mission would feed anybody but the beds were limited and Spike watched for someone who was getting fed but not staying. Watched the coming and going with a casual eye, smoking under an awning across the street.

A lot of what left the mission were the hard-core street folk; those that lived in the Underground or down around the Piers and wouldn't stay in a shelter for any reason whatsoever. And a lot of those were sick - too sick to appeal to Spike. Or too crazy. But there was another kind of person who wouldn't stay overnight, either. Demons, who often found it uncomfortable or dangerous to be around humans that long, and young humans who were too full of bravado or drugs to know what was good for them. Or those that had someone waiting for them - someone too ill or too afraid to venture into the shelter at all. _Those_ he watched, and finally saw a likely one. A boy - well, just barely. Worn jeans and work boots, a knit cap pulled down tight over his head and the hood of his sweatshirt over that, obscuring his face with shadow. Under the too-large folds of the dirty zip-up Spike could tell he was fairly muscled still, and that promised a good feed.

Spike flicked his cigarette away and faded back, waiting for his chosen meal to get close enough. As the man walked by - hard, purposeful stride, head down, bag of food swinging from one fist - Spike caught a familiar scent. He took a deep breath, mouth open slightly, and then grimaced. Werewolf. The scent was so strong he couldn't tell if this man _was_ the were-creature or if he was somehow connected to it, but either way that was too much for Spike to handle tonight. He snarled silently, irritated at his state.

 _*Better all the time. I know that, and Wrxl says it's so. Just have to be patient.*_ Spike hated being patient but he had learned something, eight months ago. Something he'd never forget. So he let the man go by and set his sights instead on a girl: buzzed short hair and tattoos showing on her hands, jail-house stuff. He arranged himself for effect - made a small noise of appreciation when she sauntered by. She checked - looked him over and grinned. She smelled of sex and meth and dirt and very faintly of blood and her eyes were a strange, pale color that gave her the look of a lunatic. She tasted absolutely delicious.

 

When Spike got to work the club was already busy - Saturday night, after all. The dungeon was full, the dance floor was packed and the 'special' rooms upstairs were all occupied. Spike got a shot of whiskey and turned his duster over to the care of the coat-check girl, then did a round. Everything was relatively quiet although there were two Army boys upstairs and he made a note to keep an eye on them. They might just need a little seeing-to, later. He came back downstairs and went into the office to say hello to Vivian. She was on the phone as usual, hissing something in a demon dialect Spike didn't quite understand. She grinned when she saw him. Vivian was a vampire as well and she only hired demons - but she catered to humans. Spike liked her. He lit up and smoked while she finished her conversation and hung up.

"So, Spike - you're looking good."

"Feeling good, Viv. Anything I should know?"

"There's a group from Belgium coming in this evening, late. Going to rent out the suite for tonight and tomorrow. Shouldn't be any problems but I'd appreciate if you'd keep an eye out. Otherwise - some soldiers here tonight."

"Saw 'em," Spike said, and ground out his cigarette. Viv understood about the soldiers.

"You're always so discreet about them, I'm sure I need not say anything...?" Viv's eyebrows lifted into a gentle arch and Spike leaned forward over her desk, getting close.

"Now, Viv. You know you don't have a thing to fear, love." He gave her his best sardonic smirk, and she laughed.

"I know, Spike. Wrxl's about somewhere, have him take a look sometime tonight."

"Right, I'll do that." Spike stood back up and sauntered out as Viv's phone rang. The DJ tonight was a very young vamp who liked European techno-pop just a little _too_ much and Spike winced as his ears were assaulted with the dolphin-like range of the singer for Aqua. He did another round, snarling at Justin up in the DJ booth. Justin just laughed and segued into something vaguely Indian but equally appalling and Spike went away upstairs to give the Army boys the once-over again. They were sharing a room and a cute little Ting demon, and he hoped they'd try something before they left.

 _*Fuck it. They don't even **have** to try anything. I'll see to 'em before they get too far, one way or another.*_ There was an Army post nearby - an hour away or less - and soldiers came to the club fairly frequently. And when they did, and Spike was feeling up to it, he followed them. He'd found a place in the Underground, far off the beaten path of the tourist tours. A place where the soldiers could scream and no one would hear them.

Spike grinned, heading back downstairs for another shot, the girl's meth-tainted blood fizzing through him and boiling any lingering shakes away. He had to find Wrxl, have the demon give him the once-over. He felt good tonight - better than usual - and he was pretty sure he was almost back. Almost healed.

 

Wrxl was down in the sub-basement under the dungeon, helping to stitch up a Vleet that had gotten a little too enthusiastic with his suspension act. Three jagged tears in the demon's dappled hide showed where piercing jewelry had been torn out and the demon was moaning and leaking blue-green blood everywhere.

"Now next time, dear boy, don't play 'Superman' and you should be fine." Wrxl put in a last stitch and mopped at the blood - glanced up at Spike. His tentacled white brows went up in welcome and long, fleshy 'whiskers' came forward, orienting on him and scenting. "Mir, you finish up, there's a good girl." Wrxl handed a forceps and needle to his assistant and stepped away from the table, peeling off Latex gloves. He prided himself on being a professional.

"Spike! Dear boy! You're looking exceptionally well! Come, come, I've some lovely new Double Mazedar chai I'm certain you'll like." Wrxl limped to his office door and ushered Spike in - began to fuss about with pots and cups and a small gas-ring and Spike settled comfortably into a worn leather wing-back chair. He pulled out a cigarette and lit up, and took the cup of hot, milky tea gratefully.

"Cheers, mate."

"Now Spike - not supposed to smoke, you know!"

"I've cut back!" Spike mumbled, and sipped his chai noisily.

Wrxl did the same and sighed contentedly, and neither spoke until their cups were empty. Wrxl put his cup down on his desk and clasped his hand before his face - peered at Spike over his slim, elongated fingers. "So.... you really _are_ looking better. I'd say we only have one more treatment to go and you'll be back to your old self."

"That's good news, then," Spike said, relieved. The treatments were not pleasant.

"Indeed. Oh! Speaking of news - I've had some. Let me just..." Wrxl pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to a door opposite his desk. It opened into a private study and apothecary's lab. Various beakers and alembics littered one massive table, some positioned over Bunsen burners. Their contents fumed or boiled or smoked, making the air fuggy with stinging or smelly vapors. Shelves, riddled with tiny drawers, lined the opposite wall, stuffed full to bursting with the bones of his trade. Wrxl donned more Latex gloves and began to mix bits of herbs and other ingredients into a crucible, chattering as he did. Spike settled on a tall stool and watched him.

"Now, this Gly'gli, it came knocking on our door two nights ago. It was in terrible shape, poor thing - starved and half dead. While I was ascertaining its state it told me that the Slayer had died, down at the Hellmouth. The one that was so instrumental in removing the soldiers from the game."

"Did she now?" Spike grinned. That damn blonde was half the reason the soldiers had gotten him in the first place.

"Oh yes. Months ago - back in November. Seems a Hellgod killed her, or - she killed herself? I don't really know. The Gly'gli was very ill and his story was rather incoherent, I'm afraid." Wrxl added three drops of something poisonously green to his mix and it flared up for a moment and then subsided, smoking.

Spike shifted a little on the stool, practicing his patience and not liking it much. "So - is that all he knew?"

"Oh my, no. He'd been down in that Pit - down in that Initiative. Just seeing what there was to see. You know the Gly'gli - _consummate_ scavengers. He had found some bits and bobs that he thought I would want to look over. But unfortunately, he'd also stumbled across some rather nasty trash." Wrxl adjusted the flame of a burner and settled the crucible over it, then turned to Spike. "He died, I'm afraid, just last night. But he _did_ bring me something rather crucial to your recovery. It seems that the scientists were using stem cells." Wrxl smiled triumphantly, showing his lamprey-mouth of numerous tentacles. His 'whiskers' practically vibrated with glee.

"Okay. What, in bloody Hell, does that mean to _me_?" Spike had no idea what stem cells were, or why they would make a difference in what Wrxl was doing to cure him.

"Spike, Spike," Wrxl chided, shaking his head. "You really should keep up with the times. Stem cells are embryonic cells. They can be - turned on and off, as it were, and in the right circumstances can be prompted to replicate any cell structure. For example -"

"Wrxl, please." Spike held up his hand. _*Practiced my patience enough. Time to cut to the chase!*_ "Just tell me, all right, mate?"

"Very well." Wrxl slumped, defeated, but then went on. "It seems the Initiative scientists were injecting you with stem cells that had been programmed to produce cancerous cells - poisoned cells. That's why you have - plateaued - in your recovery. Your body keeps producing the toxins that are making you ill." Wrxl checked the crucible and motioned to Spike and they returned to the office. Wrxl offered more chai but Spike declined, wishing for a shot instead.

"Very ingenious of them - very crafty. I cannot _begin_ to imagine what they hoped that line of - er - research would tell them." Spike hissed, low, and Wrxl made a gargling noise that was something like an embarrassed cough. "Of course, it wasn't all done with science, oh no. Humans haven't gotten quite _that_ far yet. Did you know, there was a _Chaos_ mage in there for a bit? He escaped as well, at the last, but before he did he was coerced into using magic to program the cells."

Wrxl settled himself into his chair, sipping at his chai and Spike ground his teeth. He wanted to leap up and shake the silver-blue demon until he talked but he controlled himself. Wrxl was old and fragile and an accomplished mage as well as apothecary and surgeon. Spike wouldn't be likely to survive long if he angered the old bore.

"Right, so - you know what they did. You got a fix, then?"

"Oh my, yes, I do. Some of the details of what this mage did were in the things the Gly'gli brought to me, and from them I've extrapolated the chain of events. _And_ \- found a way to turn off the cells! After this treatment, you'll be cured." Wrxl gaped his mouth open again in his parody of a smile and Spike took a deep drag off his smoke.

"There's a catch though, right? Always a catch."

"Well, I suppose you could call it that. This last treatment is going to be rather harsh. You'll be out of commission for - at least four days, maybe six. But not to worry!" Wrxl sipped his chai and nodded pleasantly at Spike, who smoked furiously. "I've arranged with Vivian to have some meals sent round, starting Monday. You'll take this last treatment right before you go to sleep tonight and I can't imagine you'll be wanting anything in your stomach for at _least_ twenty-four hours. And you must sleep as much as you can, and wash as often as you can. The toxins are going to be forced out of your system and a number of them will come through your skin. The stem cells will die and you'll be shedding them, as well."

Spike thought about that. Finished his smoke and stubbed it out, stood up. "But after I'll be like I was."

"Yes indeed. Once the cells are turned off and pushed out and you're not fighting a stalemate, as it were, with your own body, your healing abilities will kick in and you'll be just fine. Vampires have a remarkable ability to become well, if only they're not being - interfered with." Wrxl frowned at that, his disgust at the Initiative and its experiments plain on his flat face.

"Wrxl, I owe you. William the Bloody - owes you. You just name it, and it's yours." Spike grinned down at the old demon, who huffed in pleased surprise.

"Oh heavens, Spike - I couldn't imagine... I'll think of some token - some thing to - to make us even. This has been absolutely _fascinating_ , really. Finding a solution to a problem like this is its own reward."

"So they say, Wrxl, but I owe you. I won't forget." Spike made a small bow and spun on his heel - strode out of the office and up out of the sub-basement, feeling a rising tide of giddy excitement. To be _healthy_ again - that was - _*Fuckin' incredible! Fuckin' amazing. That old geezer - I'm gonna make him happy for this.*_ Spike bounced up to the bar and got a shot of whiskey - looked around for a fight or a fuck-up. He felt good, and he wanted to _do_ something. And by this time next week, he'd be his old self - ready to….

 _*To what, though? Dru's gone - Slayer's dead. No plans on goin' back to the Hellmouth or 'cross the pond. Guess it's a wait-and-see thing. But tonight - one of those soldiers wants to come out and play. I'll just bet anything at all.*_ Justin started playing some Iggy Pop and Spike laughed out loud. 

 

 

The club closed at four and Spike sauntered casually out a half a minute after the soldiers, Wrxl's curative deep in his pocket and a cigarette in his mouth. The soldiers stood on the corner for a moment, talking quietly, then parted with mutual manly back-poundings and half-drunk leers. One walked a dozen yards and got into a new-looking truck, revving the engine for a moment before pulling away, a last wave and honk at his buddy. The other walked, brisk soldier's pace, his camouflage outfit as crisp as when he'd arrived ten hours earlier. A service of the club, one Vivian knew drew the military and professionals alike. 

Spike paced him, smoking, watching with demon's eyes as the soldier drew out his own cigarettes and lighter. Three blocks and the soldier turned into the lot of a mid-level hotel. He pulled a keycard out of his pocket and stood by the side-door, blearily slotting the card in and then cursing quietly when the lock didn't open. He had the card upside down, but didn't seem to notice. Spike tossed his butt away and approached the man, who glanced up at him and then back to the electronic lock.

"Fucking thing won't open," the man mumbled, and Spike grinned.

"Yeah? Lemme help," Spike said. The soldier glanced up again, automatic half-smile on his face that faded satisfactorily in the face of the demon. Spike darted forward and brought his own forehead cracking sharply into the soldier's and watched the man go down like a puppet, strings cut. The keycard skittered away across the concrete. "Help you to a little atonement, fucker."

Spike hoisted the man easily over his shoulder; a bit of a snack from one of Viv's 'private stock' had given him a boost right before closing. He walked jauntily around the building to the back, confident in what he would find - and did. Storm-drain access. In this city of mist and monsoon, water control was taken very seriously. Spike dumped the soldier to the concrete and pried the rusted iron door upwards. He looked down, studying what lay below, and then pulled the soldier over. He grasped the man's wrists and kicked the rest of the body down, to swing in blackness. Then he let him drop. There was a splash and a moan, and Spike eased through the hole as well - did a quick little maneuver that had him dropping down into dripping shadow while the cover clanged shut above. He landed easily, legs astride the soldier who was coming up woozily on one elbow.

"Ow - _fuck_! What in hell -!"

Spike snatched the soldier up by his shirt-front and shoved him into the wall where he leaned weakly, rubbing his head. He was soaked from shoulder to knee and his cap was gone, fallen in the sullen rill of trash-clogged water that meandered down the concrete tube.

"What the fuck is going on?" The soldier was momentarily blind, but Spike knew he would be able to see in a minute or two - enough street light filtered in to make little patches of silvery white here and there. 

Spike pulled a fresh cigarette from the pack - fished out his lighter. "You really wanna know? I'll tell you. If you _really_ wanna know."

Spike watched the soldier flinch and lift his head - look around, squinting, and put his hands out to grope in front of him. "Yeah, I wanna know! Damnit, what the hell-!"

"What's going on is...you are going to give me a little peace of mind. Or maybe _piece_ of mind, I haven't decided. And I'm going to give you - a taste of hell." Spike flicked open his Zippo and held it up, lighting his cigarette. Knowing that the flame was highlighting every feature of his demon - was sparking a red glow in his eyes. The soldier sucked in a hard breath, staring, and Spike took the cigarette out of his mouth - lifted the Zippo a fraction and grinned.

"I think you'd better run, don't you?" Spike whispered. And he lunged, snapping the Zippo shut. The soldier gave a hoarse shout of surprise and fear and bolted, splashing noisily through the water, the sweet stink of fear behind him like incense. Spike shoved his Zippo away and took a long drag off his smoke. Humming a little Clash, grinning, he stalked after. Up ahead the man stumbled and fell, grunting in pain when his knee hit the concrete a solid blow. But he was up and moving again in a moment and Spike saw a pin-point of light flickering wildly. The soldier had one of those mini credit-card lights. Spike's grin got wider.

_*Oh, how I love this dance.*_

 

The soldier whimpered; a steady, breathy gurgle that Spike thought sounded rather like sex. At least, the sort of sex that demons sometimes indulged in. Spike reached up and turned the flame higher on the old Coleman lantern he'd hung up, on the off-chance that the soldier was watching him. He flicked the ASP baton to the side, shaking off blood. It was 26 inches of whippy steel that hit hard enough to break bones. In Spike's hand, it _shattered_ them, and the soldier was a mess of blood and bone splinters and ragged flesh. Every inch of his body had been hit, except the head. Spike hadn't wanted him to die. Not yet. He put his hand on the tip of the baton and pushed, telescoping it shut. Spike felt his muscles shaking just a little as he exerted the necessary force.

_*Time to go home.*_

The last soldier who'd ended up here was a huddle of rags and bones in one corner. The scavengers in the Underground were efficient and Spike liked that they would clean up his hidey-hole after he left. He went over to the remains and picked up the chain that lay there, shaking it free of bones and bits of hair. The skull rolled and bounced away, coming to rest against the live soldier's ribs and there was a sudden, more panicky note to the noises he was making.

"Now, don't fret. I'm not going to kill you." Spike dug into his jeans-pocket for his key-ring, separating out the small padlock key and opening the lock that was fastened through several links of the chain. He went back to the soldier - crouched down beside him and lifted his head by a handful of hair. The soldier made a high-pitched sound of desperation, his eyes rolling wildly, and Spike shushed him. 

"There now - not going to kill you, I said, and the hurting part...." Spike wound the chain twice around the soldier's neck - let his head drop back down. "Well, the hurting part is gonna keep up for a bit, I'm afraid. But eventually, that'll stop too." He threaded the padlock through links and clicked it shut, and then patted the soldiers' face. "Good boy, Joe. You did really well." Spike grinned down at the contorted features, and the man's wandering gaze finally settled on his face.

"Whhhh..." the man whispered, and Spike cocked his head a little.

"Why? You asking why?" Tiny, jerky nod and Spike stroked his hand over the man's matted, dull-blond hair. He leaned in close, inches from the soldier's face. "Because I _need_ it, that's why," he whispered, and licked a slow path from jaw to hairline, sweat and blood tingling across his tongue. It was thick with terror and despair, spiced with a dash of rage, heady with supplication. The man let out a soft, choked cry, and blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. Every breath drove the chisel-edges of snapped ribs into his lungs and Spike could hear him slowly drowning. Spike stood up and finally let his demon-face go, and the man's eyes widened.

"P-plee-sss," he rasped, panic and agony making his eyes tear, pinking trails running down his temples and into his hair. Spike reached up and turned the stem on the Coleman, lowering the wick slowly. The golden spot of light shrank, smaller and smaller, and a frenzied light was in the soldier's eyes as the flame trembled on the edge of going out.

"That's such a pretty word," Spike mused, looking down at him. "Pity it doesn't mean anything." He turned the stem once more and they were in utter darkness. The keening, tea-kettle scream that was all the man could manage sang in Spike's ears for at least two minutes, following him down the tunnels like a desperate dog.

 

Home again, and another shower - _Mott the Hoople_ crashing over him from the stereo. Slowly lathering away sweat and blood and the smoky atmosphere of the club - lazily sliding a hand over his insistent erection and arching back in heady shivers as he came. In soft cotton sleep pants he sponged a few spatters off his duster and boots and then had a shot of whiskey before uncapping Wrxl's final dose. He eyed the swirling, milky-blue liquid for a moment and then downed it swiftly. It was, as usual, utterly vile and he poured a second shot and rolled the liquor around in his mouth for a moment before swallowing, shuddering at the taste.

An hour later he knew it was going to be worse than any time before and he staggered to the phone and with a shaking hand dialed Vivian. She growled at him, half-asleep and pissed off, but he hung up five minutes later knowing help was coming; one of Viv's best, to keep an eye out and keep things cleaned up. Spike made his way back to the bed and collapsed, pulling a heavy blanket around himself, shuddering uncontrollably in the grip of a magic-induced fever. It felt as if his muscles were tearing loose from his bones and he clenched his teeth and endured.

_*End soon enough. Been through worse. Get this shite out of me and then...then I'll be **me** again. Spike - William the Bloody - Slayer of Slayers. Maybe I need to go look over the new one down at the Hellmouth. When I'm well, when I'm well....*_

He didn't hear Viv's minion come in and he drifted in memory and nightmare while the magic worked through him and pared him down to whipcord and bone - purged the past and removed the last of the Initiative taint from his body. But it couldn't do a thing about his mind.

 

 

_"H'm!" Said Rikki-tikki, "that is very sad - but I am a stranger here. Who is Nag?" *A clanging from somewhere, down to the right and he knows, he knows what it means, and he feels the shaking start, that he can't control._

_"They're coming…."_

_"I know. Can you keep going?" Deep breath and he tries for calm - tries for that headspace that the other has been teaching him._

_"Darzee and his wife only cowered down in the nest without answering, for from the thick grass at the foot of the bush there came a low hiss - a horrid cold sound that made Rikki-tikki jump back two clear feet. Then inch by inch out of the grass rose up the head and spread hood of Nag, the big black cobra, and he was five feet long from tongue to tail."_

_*Booted feet, the faint squeak of a wheel that isn't quite straight. And that hum, that starts with a tiny, tiny click. That hum, that means….*_

_"It's all right - you can do it. Sink into it, see it…."_

_"I am - I am...." *Breathlessly, as if saying it makes it so.*_

_'When he had lifted one-third of himself clear of the ground, he stayed balancing to and fro exactly as a dandelion-tuft balances in the wind, and he looked at Rikki-tikki with the wicked snake's eyes that never change their expression, whatever the snake may be thinking of._

_"Who is Nag?" he said. "I am Nag. The great god Brahm put his mark upon all our people when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off Brahm as he slept. Look, and be afraid!"_

_*And then the hideous, helpless convulsion as the hum kicks up abruptly to a whine of power and electricity dances over him like a million needles dipped in acid.*_

_"Go! Just go! I'll bring you back -" *And then nothing, and then the garden and the snake and the mongoose in the dust, and he is gone...*_

_"Well," said Rikki-tikki, and his tail began to fluff up again, "marks or no marks, do you think it is right for you to eat fledglings out of a nest?"_

 

Spike jolted awake, the words dying on his lips as he became aware. He was on the floor -against the wall - huddled in an attitude that his body remembered all too clearly even as his mind tried to forget. The brick wall was cold and rough against his cheek and he could smell blood - could smell the reek of raw, burnt flesh from scorch marks that cannot heal.

_*No, that's memory, that's the past...I'm healed, those burns are long gone….*_

He shuddered all over, resting there for a moment and then slowly pushed himself upright. The bed was a few feet away and he staggered to it - slumped on the edge, shivering. The dream was still there, hovering - waiting for him to slip back in and he wrenched his mind away from it with an effort. Focused on his hand that was clenched tight in the sheet - focused on the music he could hear coming from the TV.

 _*Christ. Headspace. Need to....*_ There was a small noise and he whipped around, the demon there, snarling.

"Hey, Spike." Tod stood there, hands up and out in a show of harmlessness, human faced. Not moving, even though the bed and twenty feet of floor separated them. Vivian's best boy and the one who'd kept his flat in order - kept him fed, this past week. Someone to trust, for the most part. The narrow-faced vampire waited, unmoving, until Spike pushed the demon away and relaxed a little.

"Tod." Harsh croak that hurt, and he winced and swallowed. "Gonna shower. Your little proselytes back, then?"

Tod grinned at that. He'd been a priest-in-training, when Viv had got him. "They'll be back soon. Getting you something with a little fear and loathing in it. Should make for a good meal."

"Yeah." Spike stood up and walked slowly around the bed, dragging his t-shirt off, pushing the pants down. They - _he_ \- reeked of magically generated sweat and he wrinkled his nose, disgusted. He let the clothes lie where they fell. Tod's little acolytes would take care of it. They'd cleaned the flat to within an inch of its life and kept the whiskey and the smokes stocked and gone out for Thai take-away and Ethiopian when Wrxl deemed human food a good sop for the poison. Vampires weren't supposed to vomit but Spike had done it before - _there_ \- and he did it now. The food came back tainted with the dying stem-cells and the poisons that he'd been fed and he could feel his body healing every time he coughed up another stomach-full of foulness.

Now he was rank with the stuff, his unnatural sweat a sort of dirty rust color and he wanted it _off_. Tod had gone back to the television, wisely not saying a word about mumbled snakes and mongooses and Spike got the shower going and then stood there in the steam and roar of it, eyes closed.

Dru had loved _The Jungle Books_ ; she'd had Spike read the stories to her over and over until he'd memorized them. They were one of the few things he'd been able to remember with any clarity back there, in the Pit. And then, some timeless time into the nightmare of illness and pain, that _voice_ had come to him from the next cell over. Calm voice, quiet voice. A voice that told him softly about the moon and monks and chants - about headspace that was _private_ space. That took you out of yourself and out of the world, and let you _cope_. That voice had taught him to sink down and away and those stories were the trigger. Far-off places, jungle and heat or the cold Nova Scotia shores; so different from the white on white on deadly white of _that_ place.

A werewolf voice, that woke him up when his time with the doctors was over - that pulled him out of the void and back to himself. A voice that had saved him and that he'd lost, except for his dreams. And he'd been dreaming more about that voice, just lately. Ever since he'd smelled werewolf on that Mission case, he'd been thinking about him. Spike was pretty sure the wolf was alive. When the Slayer and her groupies had smashed into the Initiative and taken out their private Monster, all the doors had come open and Spike had scrabbled into his duster and crawled out, cringing a little from the flames and the chaos. 

He'd turned and _seen_ him - slight, pale boy with scars and wounds over his naked body. Shock of dark-auburn hair and eyes like pits. A faint, pained smile and then the Slayer was there and that little red-headed witch and others - dark boy, darker man, one of the soldiers. They'd swept the wolf up and gone, the Slayer killing as she went and Spike had forced himself to his feet - gone for the room and the duct and the way he _knew_ was out, following his nose to summer-green air and freedom. He'd never looked back.

But now, soaping the filth of that place off him - _*Nine damn months and those bastards are still **in me**!*_ he remembered and he wished he knew where the wolf had gone. If he'd lived. They'd had their claws into _him_ , as well, and Spike had listened to the screams and talked the boy down out of his own waking nightmares more than once. Reciting bits of books and poetry and old songs until the ragged wails became whimpers and the whimpers trailed away to silence and the steady breath of sleep.

 _*Saved me, I saved him...hope he made it.*_ Spike rinsed himself and shampooed again and scrubbed again, until he finally felt clean. He got out and wrapped himself in his robe. He felt - almost _good_ \- felt cleaner and healthier and _stronger_ then he had for months. Felt like he'd finally turned the corner, somewhere, and was now going back up instead of down. He was too thin and his skin was nearly transparent, but he felt the demon stirring in anticipation of blood - felt it wanting to move and _do_ , and he smiled.

 _*Soon, now. Be back to myself. Coming out of the pit and getting up onto solid ground now.*_ That thought made him so cheerful he almost laughed and he went out into to the kitchen area and found his smokes. Lighting up and dragging the smoke over his tongue, down into his lungs, it tasted _good_ \- first time in a while and he _did_ laugh then. Tod's head popped up from the couch, looking curiously over at Spike.

"It's worked. Wrxl's tonic worked." Spike said, grinning, and Tod grinned back. Spike went over to the couch and Tod moved up to one end, facing him.

"Great. Viv'll be pleased to hear it. She's been calling every day."

"Yeah? I'll talk to her later. Might even go out tonight." Spike flopped down on the couch and they both watched the television in silence for a moment. Just as Spike was looking around, wondering where the remote was, the front door rolled open and Tod's boys - Spike could never remember their names - came in, manhandling a bound, hooded figure between them.

"Dinner's here!" the blond-haired one said and they pushed the figure to its knees. Spike put out his cigarette and rose and walked closer, taking in a deep breath. And it hit him, full force.

 _*Wolf! Fuck, that's -. No, it can't be....*_ Spike brought out the demon and he breathed again, scenting deeply. Fear, rank sweat, a little blood. Dirt and grease. Faint burnt-sugar smell that was some sort of opiate. _Werewolf_. Familiar as his own body - tainted still with illness. _*Fuck, it is, it's -*_ "Where'd you get him?" Spike snapped, and the other one - black one, who hadn't survived his first night of being a cop - took a step back.

"We saw him at that shelter - the church one? Followed him. We thought - he looked like a good one, but - " That one stopped and the blonde licked his lips - took up the story.

"He - it was like he knew what we wanted. He started running and - we followed. He was _good_." Brief flicker of golden eyes, and Spike knew what he meant. A good chase, a good hunt - a worthy prey. "He almost got home, but we got him in the hall. Somebody'd dumped a bunch of furniture in the corridor and he got hung up on it."

Spike crouched down in front of the boy - reached out and yanked the hood off in one swift motion. The boy blinked, squinting, and then he froze and Spike heard his heart pounding even faster - smelled fresh sweat and fear rolling off of him.

"Fuckers." The same too-large hoodie hung off him - the same knit cap. Dark brown eyes, a little blood-shot. Pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. Fear and hatred contorting his features. Spike let the demon go and the dark eyes widened in shock and the mouth - bruised and a little swollen, lip split - came open on a harsh intake of breath. " _Spike_ , fuck -"

"I don't know you," Spike said, and the boy blinked at him - took another breath and _scowled_ , and Spike had to grin.

"I know _you_. You attacked my school - kidnapped my friend, almost got my other friend killed." The boy was trembling, but it was anger as much as fright and Spike stared at him, fascinated.

"I did? When?"

"In _Sunnydale_. You remember - the Hellmouth?"

Spike flinched a little at the name - studied the boy again. Something surfaced in his memory, brief flash. "Fuck! You're the one that was mouthing off to Angel when he was handing you over as a snackpack." Spike grinned harder, remembering that. Remembering the dozy expression on Angel's face when he'd punched the git. Remembering the dark-haired boy who'd struggled and snarked and then run like hell. "You were down there - you helped get the wolf out. Away from the soldiers."

The boy stared at him - shook his head slightly. "You were there? Oz told me...." The boy cut himself off and Spike seized on the name he'd tried to banish from his memory.

"Yeah, Oz. The wolf. Where is he? I can smell him all over you."

The boy looked around at the three other vamps standing over him and set his face into an expressionless mask. "Think I'll just tell you? Forget it."

"Yeah, I think you _will_. 'Cause you're not leaving here alive, boy. And he's _sick_. I can smell him and it's - wrong. It's off. You just gonna - abandon him?"

The boy's hard look wavered for a moment, but then it was back and he shook his head slowly. "No. I'm - look. Just let me go, okay? There's tons of people to - to eat. Billions of Happy Meals, right? He can't -"

"He's _sick_ ," Spike said, and the boy's mouth snapped shut and he _glared_.

"I _know_ that. What the fuck do you care, anyway?" He struggled for a moment against the handcuffs that former-police-vamp habitually used and then slumped, defeated. "Please -"

Spike stared at the boy - at the glitter in his hard, dark eyes that meant…. _*More going on here...fuck….*_

"We know where he is." Spike looked up sharply and blond-vamp flinched ever so slightly. "I mean - we could s-smell a werewolf, but we didn't care about it. I'll bet he lives right there where _he_ was going - we can go get him."

"What, think he'll just invite you in?" Tod scoffed, and blonde-vamp deflated a little.

"He might. Or he might just - come with you. Listen -" Spike stood up and strode over to the two younger vamps - grabbed them by the throats and pulled them close. "You go over there and you _get_ him. Do _not_ hurt him. Don't even _think_ about hurting him. Tell him - tell him the mongoose and the snake. Tell him - Tibet. Understand?"

The two had morphed to their demons and nodded jerkily, wide-eyed and trying not to struggle. Spike let them go with a push and they went rapidly towards the door. The boy struggled to his feet and Tod grabbed him by the neck of his hoodie.

"Hey! Hey - tell him I said - Willow. He'll - he'll come then." The boy's voice shook ever so slightly and then he straightened himself in Tod's grip, obviously locking down his emotions, and Spike felt a moment's satisfaction in that.

 _*Good. No caterwauling or hysterics. Wonder what....*_ "You two - I'm still hungry. When you get the wolf here you're gonna have to go out again, so make it fast, right?" The two nodded and skittered out the door, shoving it closed with a thump. Spike turned back to the boy, who Tod dragged over to a chair and pushed down.

"What are you two doing up here? What's the story?" Spike asked, but the boy only looked silently at the floor. Spike walked over to him and snatched the knit cap off - grabbed a handful of hair and jerked his head up. "Answer me, boy. I'm not in the mood for games." The boy glared up at him - tried to wrench away, and Spike jerked him to his feet - held him close and shredded the neck of the hoodie open wide. Let his fangs drop and deliberately, delicately, fastened them over the boy's throat. The pulse pounding there against his tongue was like a bird's wings and the sweet-salt of flesh and sweat was thick and oh, so tempting. He licked, and shivered every so slightly.

"I'm _hungry_ , and I'm pissed off," Spike murmured, feeling the uncontrollable spasms of fight/flight jerk through the body that was like a brand against his own. "And I don't want the wolf to get here and see your drained fucking _corpse_ , because it's obvious you've been carin' for him." Spike licked again and nipped gently on the boy's earlobe, not even breaking the skin. "So _tell me_ what the fuck you're _doing here_. Savvy?" He pushed the boy away and down, slamming him back into the chair and the boy just froze for a moment, eyes shut. Then he shifted, easing his shoulders a little, and looked up at Spike, his gaze venomous and cold.

"We're here because we had to get the fuck away from the Hellmouth. The Initiative fucked him over and he's not getting better. Heard some rumors -" Here he stopped and licked his lips and Spike eased himself down on the couch, finding his smokes again and lighting one, watching him. "Heard some rumors that there was - was somebody that might be able to help, up here. So we came."

"Where's the rest of your little gang? What about the witch an' all?" Spike plumed smoke upwards and Tod shuffled his feet - went over to the kitchen and got a couple of beers. He didn't like that they were English and that they were warm, but he didn't say anything. He put one down in front of Spike and Spike opened it, watching the boy. He was whiter than a sheet now and there was something raw and too-young in his eyes that drew Spike like a magnet.

_*Pain and loss and lost innocence. Sweet little rabbit*_

"I - there was a g-god. A Hellgod. We - we killed her but Buffy died. Willow tried to bring her back…." Spike's eyes went wide at that, and he felt Tod's shock as well. Resurrection spells were tricky, dangerous, and rarely worked. And they took power. A _lot_.

"So - she do it, then? Bring the Slayer back?" The boy blinked rapidly - looked away and down and leaned forward a little, hunching. Spike realized he was trying not to cry and he lifted his cigarette slowly to his mouth, watching through half-shut eyes. _* **Pretty** rabbit.*_

"She - tried and the spell - backfired and...she died. W-willow died." The boy closed his eyes and just leaned down over his knees, his breathing going all jerky and wet, the salt and sorrow smell like a fog around him.

Spike couldn't resist it - he got back up and crossed to him - crouched down and ruffled his hand through the thick hair. It needed a wash but it was long and silky and felt good. The boy trembled under his touch but didn't move - didn't pull away.

"Don't cry, little rabbit. If the spell didn't work then she got lucky - didn't have to hand her soul over to some...devil. Probably." He grinned and the boy sat up with a jerk, his eyes blazing absolute fury and something was there, _something_ \- a darkness that wasn't there before, a _difference_. The boy lunged, teeth snapping. Spike backhanded him and he was gone - out. Slithering off the chair and hitting the floor hard, awkward and floppy as a rag-doll. Lying there with fresh blood welling on his lip, those suicidal eyes closed. Spike leaned forward and lapped at the blood, sucking gently for a moment. It was hot and shivery-good; full of so many emotions, and Spike let his eyes flutter closed for a moment. Then he stood and stubbed out the cigarette - went to the bedroom and shed the robe, opening the wardrobe doors. He wanted to be dressed when the wolf arrived.

 _*Gonna find out everything. Have to talk to Wrxl - he can probably help.... Oh, that boy...sweet little rabbit…. Going to keep him, for sure.*_ Spike grinned to himself, and dressed, and settled to wait. This was all just so… _neat_.

 

It had started to rain, sometime between Tod's little cronies going out and coming in, and when they came through the door, the sagging figure of the werewolf slung between them, Spike had a vivid flashback to one of his very first kills. Pretty little rent-boy, lured into the bushes off Rotten Row - left lying amidst the blood and amber colored leaves and conkers of an October twilight. Pale face spangled with the evening's drizzle and here's that face all over again; starred with raindrops and as blue and deathly as any corpse.

 _*He looks deader than I do. What did they do to him, for fuck's sake?*_ The two half-carried the slight form across the floor and eased him down onto the couch. The werewolf was boneless and motionless, only his eyes showing any signs of life. His clothes - corduroy jeans and hoodie and flannel shirt - were all too big, and not very clean. Dim, ugly colors that Spike hated on sight.

"Food. Now," Spike snapped, and those two were gone again, taking the smell of wet concrete and garbage and cheap cologne with them. Tod was off to one side, hovering over the other boy and Spike hesitated for a moment. But finally he crossed to the wolf and crouched down - reached out and very gently turned his head so that the eyes - the color of new willow leaves - could focus on him.

"Wolf? You in there, wolf?" There was nothing for a long moment. Spike could hear the werewolf's heart, that was beating slow and steady. Could hear his breath that had a thick, wheezing undertone. _*That's not right, not good...need to get Wrxl over here -*_ "Tod - call Wrxl. See if he can come down." Tod was studying the wolf and he nodded and moved away, pulling a cell-phone from an inner pocket.

"Wolf? Oz? You hear me?' Spike let his fingers trail upward to comb through matted hair that might be auburn or might be dark brown. Brushed over the straight, dark brows and stubbled lip. Nothing. "C'mon, wolf - what's wrong with you?"

Spike could smell pot and that sickly-sweet opiate - could smell sweat and must and curry powder. Could smell the sickness that is the Initiative's taint, like a new-born dog left to lie in the sun and broil: blood and rot and rotting metal, charred flesh. The werewolf's skin was so deadly pale it had taken on a bluish cast, and his lips were a slatey grey - even the whites of his eyes were bluish, and they made his eyes seem paler, less human. "Wolf - _wolfling_ -" Spike went so far as to shake him, quick snap of his shoulder, but he only blinked ever so slowly, and then closed his eyes.

"He's gonna be out for a while," a voice said, and Spike looked up sharply, into the dark-brown eyes of the boy. He was sitting up now, hands still locked behind him, his lip swollen and the left side of his face darkening to a bruise.

"Why? What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing, at the moment. He's just - stoned, you know? Probably shot up right before your guys got there - lucky he was awake enough to invite them in." The boy shifted uncomfortably and tried to get up, but he couldn't manage with his hands like that. He settled for getting up to his knees and crawling over to the couch. Spike bared his teeth, warning him off, but the boy ignored him - ducked his head and turned it away a little, flashing a bit of his long, pale throat through the torn neck of the hoodie and it was enough to short-circuit the demon for a moment.

 _*Where'd he learn to do that? **Why** did he do that?*_ Spike just crouched there as the boy leaned against the couch and studied the werewolf - sagged back finally into a sitting position.

"He's okay. He'll just be out for a while. Full moon a couple nights ago. He's still - recovering."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Spike looked back at the werewolf - reached and carefully straightened his awkwardly sprawled limbs. The skin of his wrist was cold and damp and silken, and Spike could feel his pulse there, steady as a drum.

"It means...fuck, it means it's a long damn story. Take these damn things off me and I'll tell you, okay?" The boy's tone was calm - almost soft - but his heart was pounding and his eyes flashed up just once, holding that same darkness and Spike felt a grin coming over his face.

 _*So fierce! Wonder how much pushing will make him snap.*_ "Like you better like that. Tell me anyway." The boy glared at the floor, his shoulders jerking as he fought the handcuffs. Spike could smell blood - fresher, not from his lip - and knew his was hurting himself. But he didn't seem to care much.

"Fuck you," the boy mumbled, and Spike reached over and jerked his head up by a thick handful of hair.

"Be nice, rabbit. Or you won't like it." A moment's inner struggle that showed clearly in his face - in his eyes. _*Like a damn wolf himself, with those eyes. All fire and fight. But a rabbit's heart, telling him to crouch down and be still. Which one....*_ Spike watched the seesaw of emotion and intent - saw the hungry, hateful look fade and the resigned one take over, and gentled his grip on the boy's hair - petted him, just a little.

"That's a good rabbit, then. Tell on." Spike stood up, going to the kitchen for another beer, getting a cigarette and settling on the free end of the couch as the boy told his story. Tod talked on, cell-phone pressed to his ear, and Spike ignored him.

 

"When we got him away from the Initiative, we thought - he'd be okay. They'd tortured him...drugged him.... But we thought it was mostly just - stuff he'd recover from. Oz's always been really good about - working things out. It didn't seem like he was too bad off. But he - had really bad nightmares...." The boy paused, looking at the still figure next to him, and Spike hastily shut down his own mental follow-up to that. Nightmares, he knew quite intimately. The boy licked his lips and continued, his voice a little rough.

"Anyway, seemed like he was doing okay but then - first full moon after that.... D'you know he'd been in Tibet - learned how to control the wolf?" Spike nodded at the boy's slightly questioning look. Oz had told him all about that - had brought the high, sharp mountains and dense cities of the Far East to life in his soft, steady voice. Part of learning about that headspace, and Spike knows he'll go there someday - hang up a prayer-flag in deference to the ancient gods that had - translated through this man - brought him some peace.

"Yeah, he told me about that."

"Yeah," the boy echoed, and sighed. "Anyway - he wasn't sure, after - all that - if he'd still be in control, so that first night he had us lock him in. Just in case. And...." The boy paused again, biting his lip and wincing a little when his teeth found the split. He was trembling ever so slightly and Spike wasn't sure if it was cold or fear or a reaction to the story - to the memories. On impulse he scooted forward off the couch and offered his beer - watched avidly as the cracked lips fastened around the mouth of the bottle and the muscles of the throat undulated with swallowing.

 _*Pretty, oh yes….*_ "So - what happened?" Spike sat cross-legged and the boy licked a drop of beer off his mouth - looked over at the motionless werewolf. His eyes were wet and very wide, and his voice was husky when he spoke.

"The moon rose, and he - changed - and.... It was like the pain of the change just went on, and on. It's not supposed to be like that. It hurts, when he's changing, but it _stops_. This time it didn't stop, it just kept - hurting and the...the werewolf was h-howling and snarling and _screaming_.... He was - it was like convulsions and we - we thought he was going to break his back or - or his arms and legs it was so bad...." The boy took a sharp, shuddering breath and Spike could smell the fear and sorrow and _rage_ that were pouring off of him.

"We - Giles had a - a trank gun and he knocked him out.... We had to do it twice, it didn't last long enough. As soon as he started to wake up the p-pain came back...." The boy stopped again, but this time he laid his head down on the couch, almost on the werewolf's shoulder. He was trembling harder now, and Spike could smell tears. "It was so fuckin' awful, it was - we couldn't do anything but knock him out for three fuckin' nights and after - during the day - it was like.... Like he was lost. He had trouble talking and - moving right. He moved in with me after that. We were scared...." The boy sat up abruptly, as if suddenly aware of how much he was saying - _showing_ \- and he roughly wiped his eyes on his shoulders and sniffed.

"We tried everything. Willow used all kinds of magic to see - what was happening. But it wasn't until after the next full moon that we got a break. Buffy was dating one of those Initiative soldiers and he finally - came through with some information." The boy's jaw was clenched as he said this, and it was obvious that he had nothing but dislike - even hatred - for this soldier boy turned traitor. Spike remembered the soldier that had been there that night - that had got one arm up under the werewolf's shoulder even as this boy was doing the same on the other side.

"Sold out his own then, did he?"

"Not fuckin' soon enough. They had Oz for _two fucking months!_ He spent all that time fucking _lying_ to us and -" The boy kicked out hard, jolting the coffee table back a couple of feet and the wildness was back in his eyes - the darkness. Spike grinned, seeing that.

 _*So different, this boy. Such a strange little rabbit.*_ "So what'd he tell you?"

"The fucking _Initiative_ , our - well, _my_ fucking _government_ was - was putting microchips - computer chips - in - in people's brains. They put one in Oz."

When Spike heard that he couldn't stand up fast enough - couldn't get _away_ fast enough, because the memories came crowding into his consciousness thick and fast. Little mental movie as badly lit and jerky as some kind of home-made porn and it was just as obscene. He felt his gorge rising and swallowed convulsively.

"Guess you know something about that." Spike cast a hard look at the boy - strode over to the cabinet against the wall and jerkily poured himself a shot - drained it in one swallow and did it again. After a moment he could feel the heat of the whiskey creeping outwards from his stomach and he put the bottle and glass away - shut the cabinet up again.

"Yeah, I know something about that. So - what does the fucking thing do, then?" The boy shifted a little, because Oz was; looked at the werewolf who was twitching over just a little, moving onto his side. Then he was still again, and the boy looked back up at Spike.

"He told them, when they first captured him - that he could control it. That he could - stop the wolf. They believed him but - they didn't trust him. They - put that thing in there...so when he'd start to change, it would hurt. Like - like a fucking _shock collar_ on a dog. But - with all the fuckin' drugs and - and the fuckin' shit they were pumping into him, he couldn't _do_ it anymore. And the - the whole time he's the wolf -" The boy kicked the coffee table again, sending it over, this time, the remote and some magazines and Spike's beer flying onto the floor. Spike was on him in seconds - lifted him by the front of his grimy blue hoodie and shook him hard.

"Better learn a little control, rabbit. You don't bust up my place." The darkness - the seeming _wolf_ that lurked in this boy was right _there_ , snarling at him, and the fear-scent was overlaid with rage and with _hate_ \- with a sort of bloodlust that Spike cannot imagine this boy ever indulging.

"What _is_ that? What's in you, boy?" Spike let the demon come, to scent deeply and to taste - flick of tongue over the boy's lips, over his throat. The boy shivered convulsively at his touch - snapped his teeth at Spike and Spike laughed. Shook him again. " _Tell_ me."

"Possessed once. A hyena spirit. Fucking long story I'm _not_ gonna tell you. Let me _go_." Spike raised an eyebrow at the boy - at the _command_ that was just spat into his face. He lunged and got his fangs right into the boy's throat - right over his jugular. Sunk the tips in and just held him. Beads of blood gathered around his fangs and Spike could taste them; could taste the fury and the terror. He could taste exhaustion as well, and sorrow, and a desperate loneliness and oh _fuck_ , it was good; it was the sick-sweet buzz of heroin or meth and for a moment he just wanted to bury his fangs to the gum and drink it all down - suck out every drop. The boy was pressed up against him, hot and shuddering and trying to be _still_ and Spike pulled away slowly - licked the tiny spill of blood from the boy's throat. He ran his hand gently down the boy's cheek - cupped his jaw.

"You just came _this_ close to being my next meal, love. Best learn to keep that at bay, savvy?" Those eyes, feral and terrified, stared at him and he abruptly let him go. The boy went to his knees and then his ass, clumsy sprawl beside the couch. Spike settled on the couch again, reaching out to rub the werewolf's thin ankle through his pant leg.

"So - what the fuck? I understand...when the moon is full. But why's he - " Spike gestured at the wolf, and the boy sat up finally, glaring at the floor.

"You see how he's kinda - grey? How his skin isn't right?"

"Yeah…?"

"It's called - argyria. It's silver poisoning. It's not so bad when he's human, but when he's the wolf.... It keeps him from healing. It's making him sicker. When we left Sunnydale, he started using so he could - so he could get through the full moons. Every fucking change damages him a little more and with that shit in his body he can't heal. He's fucking dying, Spike." His name on this boy's lips jolted him and he stared at the sleeping werewolf who looked a day dead, all marble-white and the blue of coagulated blood. At the boy, who's been taking care of him for….

"How long? How long has he been using?"

"'Bout - six months. Giles - didn't like it but.... The trank gun made him sick, after a while. This works...fuck, this works better." His voice was thick with tears again and for a moment Spike wanted to slap him - didn't want to hear it. But he stopped himself. _*The wolf trusted him - trusted him enough to go with him - to do this. He's mine now, but I'll let him keep taking care. See how well he does.*_

"What's your name? What's the wolf call you?"

The boy looked up at him finally, deep pools of exhaustion in his eyes. "Xander. My name's Xander."

"Right." Spike has no memory of that name - just of this boy squirming away from him, trapped under Angel's arm. Of this same boy leaping to defend his witch-girl, and later half-carrying the damaged Watcher out of the mansion, gaze flickering over him and Dru as they all get the fuck away from the madness that is Angelus. _*Might do, this pretty rabbit-boy. Might do.*_

Tod approached just then - he'd been hovering on the edges for a while, and Spike looked up at him. "Wrxl says he'll be here in an hour or so."

Spike nodded, not replying. His hand was still on Oz's leg, feeling the thinness and the chill. "Go get a blanket Tod - he's cold." Tod grimaced but he went and Spike turned back to Xander.

"The rumors were right. There is somebody who can help him. Demon-doctor. He'll figure it out." The relief in Xander's eyes is palpable - the hope. Spike leaned back on the couch. Nothing to do but wait now, and see what Wrxl could do. _*Fix you up, wolf, just like you fixed me. Hold on.*_

 

A half-hour into his wait Tod's boys came back with dinner. It wasn't late - going on midnight, maybe - and they'd snagged two little girls, out at a club somewhere. Spike could hear them giggling all the way down in the elevator - could just faintly smell smoke and sweat and perfume.

Spike wasn't in the mood for practicing his patience and the waiting was getting on his nerves. When the door started to grind open he forced himself to stop and stand easily, waiting. Xander, who'd managed to get to his feet, turned from the bookshelf he'd been studying with a wary, trapped look that went to puzzled and then horrified as the girls tripped through the door, Tod's boys right behind.

"Oh fuck, _no_ \- don't -" Xander surged forward and Tod grabbed the cuffs and yanked him back - hooked an arm around his throat and held him still, half-strangling him into silence. Xander fought, trying to kick Tod or writhe free of his arm but he didn't stand a chance. Spike grinned at the boy and then turned his attention back to the girls; slim red-headed girl, slimmer blonde, both in something sparkly and minimal despite the chilly drizzle outside.

"Hey, what's the deal? This was supposed to be a party," the redhead whined, and Spike advanced on her, letting the demon rise.

"But it _is_ a party, luv. And you're the _hors-d’œuvre_." She opened her mouth to scream and Spike was on her and _in_ her and drinking her down before she got a sound out. The blonde shrieked and tried to bolt but cop-vamp had her by the throat, holding her tight to his body and whispering something in her ear. Spike watched her go white as he took the last welling of the redhead's blood into his mouth. He licked her throat once, savoring, and then let her drop. The blood surged through him and for the first time in months he could feel it actually _healing_ him - strengthening him and bringing him that much closer to what he had been, before Sunnydale and the fucking soldiers.

"Oh, she was sweet," Spike murmured, and blond-vamp flashed a quick grin of triumph as he moved past Spike to gather the corpse up. The blonde girl was shaking her head, shivering like a beaten dog and Spike reached out and caressed her face - pulled her close as cop-vamp let her go.

"I bet you'll be even sweeter," he said, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her head to the side. Her hands pummeled at him - clawed at him - but she was hyperventilating and he felt her skin go suddenly cold and damp as her eyes rolled up and she fainted. Shrugging, Spike bit and drank and let her fall away, feeling that surge of life and magic as the blood revitalized him and his demon almost purred in contentment. Cop-vamp hoisted the blonde up and Spike nodded at the two of them, well pleased.

"I don't need you anymore tonight. You're free to go if Tod says," he told them, and Tod nodded as well.

"Get rid of them and go do what you want. You did good tonight." The two grinned, flashing fangs, and went out as jauntily as two corpses would allow. Tod let Xander go with a shove and the boy stumbled and almost went down but steadied himself against the couch-back, coughing. He was glaring - shaking - and Spike went to circle around him, getting up close beside him and putting his face right down into the tumbled dark hair - into the warm and fragrant crook of his neck. Xander tried to move away and Spike took the chain of the handcuffs between his fingers and held him there.

"They didn't smell half as good as you do. And didn't taste anything like." Spike felt a violent shudder go through the boy - felt him crowding himself closer to the couch in an instinctive move to get away. Spike just stood there, the heated length of arm and rib and hip and thigh pressed into him, and the delicious fear-rage- _fight_ scent like a fog.

 _*Fight me - might be fun, to let that out....*_ "Gonna fight me, rabbit?" Spike murmured, and Xander took in a sharp gasp of air - turned his head slowly until he was looking at Spike.

_*There it is, that darkness...hyena, he said….*_

"Take these off and I'll fuckin' try, you bastard," Xander grated out through gritted teeth, and Spike grinned at him, knowing he'd reverted to his human face and that the blood on his mouth looked all the more horrific for it.

"Don't have the key, pretty. Guess you'll have to wait."

" _Fuck. You_." Xander's eyes were odd - sparking green in the lamp light - and Spike slid one hand up and tangled it in his hair, holding him still so he could lean forward and trail light, nipping kisses up the boy's jaw.

"You'll have to wait on the fucking, too. You need a bath." Xander recoiled from him, nearly growling, his shoulders working as he tried, one more time, to free himself from the handcuffs. There was a soft sound from the couch - a moaning sigh - and Xander's head whipped around, his gaze going from feral to anxious in seconds flat. All the hyena, if that's what it was, sinking down under the surface and leaving not a ripple behind. They both looked down at the werewolf, who had stirred and turned. His face had two hectic spots of red high on his cheekbones, and his hair was dampening with sweat, sticking to his forehead.

"Damnit," Xander muttered, and Spike let him go and vaulted easily over the back of the couch, landing on bare feet beside the wolf. He crouched down and put his hand on Oz's forehead, palming the hair back. His skin felt tight and hot - hotter than Xander's had - and was slick with sweat.

"Does he have a fever?" Xander asked, coming around the couch end and crouching down as well.

"I don't know - it's hard for me to tell. He feels hotter than you."

"Fuck. When's this - this doctor or whatever getting here?" Spike stroked the matted hair back again and Oz twisted uncomfortably, making a small sound of distress.

"He'll be here in a bit." Spike looked over at Xander - at the worry that drew his brows together and the nervousness that made him bite his split lip and wince. "What do you usually do, when he's sick?"

"I get him to drink - whatever we've got. Juice usually, or Gatorade, stuff like that. Get some aspirin down him. It works okay. That's about it. If - when he gets a fever, it doesn't last too long - twenty-four hours, maybe. Used to be less, but he doesn't fight it off so fast now." Xander made a frustrated noise and leaned his head down on the couch, his shoulders hunching. "Can't you get these damn things off? My arms hurt." He looked up finally, eye to eye with Spike, and Spike saw it - the ache from his arms being strained back, the worry over his friend, the fear. Exhaustion and anger and frustration.

"Promise you'll be good, rabbit." Something at that - a brief tightening at the corners of his eyes, a twitch in his jaw. And then Xander looked down at Oz and sighed - nodded once.

"Yeah. I won't try - anything. I just want to take care of Oz." Spike waited, but that was all, and he stood up after a moment and went over to his desk - pulled out a roll of soft black suede. Lock picks that he'd had for years. Tod was just standing there watching him, and he snarled at him, annoyed. Tod ducked his head and went over to the kitchen, settling on a stool by the counter. Spike returned to the couch and righted the coffee table, then unrolled the picks - looked them over and chose one.

"Turn around then, rabbit," he said, and Xander did, up on his knees. His wrists were bruised - one has dried blood on it, making a dark patch on the sleeve of his hoodie. His fingers looked a little swollen. Spike bent to the cuffs, probing delicately, and after a minute or so the right-hand cuff clicked open. Xander let his arm swing forward with a groan of mingled pain and pleasure and turned half around, letting Spike work on the other cuff. It was off even faster, and Spike tossed the cuffs onto the coffee table - put the pick carefully away and re-rolled the suede, tying it off neatly. Xander had slumped down, one leg tucked under him and one sprawled out to the side, gingerly rubbing his wrists and arms.

"Fuck," he whispered, flexing his hands and wincing.

Spike got up and put the picks away - got a piece of paper and pen from a drawer and took them over. "Make a list of stuff - stuff he'll need. To drink and eat, whatever you need, right?" Xander looked up at him and nodded tiredly - shook his right hand out a little and picked up the pen. He started writing and Spike jerked his head in Tod's direction, calling him over. The other vampire came reluctantly.

"You need to take this list and go get whatever's on it." Tod looked down at Xander - made a sort of chewing gesture with his mouth, as if he were biting the inside of his lip.

"Look, Spike - I came over here to do Viv a favor. I don't -" Spike's hand was on his throat, digging in _hard_ and he choked - clawed at Spike's wrist. The demon hissed, getting in close, and Tod's rose as well, baring fangs.

" _Don't_ make me put you on your knees in front of the human, Tod. I will, if you bloody well make me." Tod's eyes were wide, and he struggled for another moment, then went limp. "Good fuckin' move, mate. Just do it, Tod. Make me happy, I'll make Viv happy, and she'll make you happy, right?" Spike shook him, just a little, and Tod nodded as best he could.

"Right," he croaked, and Spike let him go. He stood there sullenly rubbing his throat until Xander finished and held the list up to Spike, who took it and glanced over it. Shrugging, he handed it off to Tod.

"Go on, then. Be back here before sunrise, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Tod muttered, and he turned on his heel and left.

"Pissed him off," Xander observed, and Spike laughed.

"He'll keep it behind his teeth, if he has any sense." Spike went over to the kitchen and got a fresh beer. He opened it and took a long swallow, wandering back to the couch, and noticed Xander watching him - watching him drink. He felt the smirk curl his mouth up a little and went over and sat down at Oz's feet - looked at the werewolf, who had settled into a heavier sleep but still looked fevered.

"Thirsty, rabbit?" Xander shrugged - did his own check of the wolf.

"Yeah, a little."

"Here." Spike held the beer out and Xander looked at him - reached for it. Spike pulled it back a little.

"No - no grabbing, now."

"How the fuck am I supposed to drink it, then?" Spike only grinned - held the bottle out again and watched as Xander got it. "Oh, fuck you," he snapped and got up - paced away from him, heading towards the kitchen. "This place have a bathroom? Human, here."

"Through there," Spike said, pointing. He had no desire to get up close and personal to long-forgotten, purely human functions. He sat drinking the beer, listening to the plumbing working and then, surprisingly, the elevator. _*Too soon for Tod - must be Wrxl. 'Bout bloody time.*_

The elevator groaned down to his floor and he heard the clanking thump of the mesh gate being raised and Wrxl's hesitant, limping step. Someone else there too, and Spike crossed to the door and slid it open. Mir - Wrxl's assistant - stood in the doorway, half-hidden under a huge duffle full of medical and herb-smelling things. Wrxl hovered behind her, wrapped tightly in a huge old Burberry, a slightly wilted Fedora pulled down tight on his head, obscuring his face in deep shadow. An open, dripping umbrella was propped by the door.

"Wrxl - thanks."

"Oh, think nothing of it, Spike, nothing at all. As I said before - the pursuit of knowledge is its own reward. And I've never actually worked with a werewolf before. They usually find a den to hide in, if they are sick enough to die." Wrxl limped inside, his cane tapping sharply on the silvery-grey, aged boards. Mir staggered in as well and let the duffle to the floor with a sigh. She was the same sort of demon as Wrxl, but instead of an all over silvery-blue she had delicate spots of pink along her temples, jaw and throat. Her whiskers went forward, scenting, and then folded flat back to her face and Spike became aware of the miasma of scent that was rolling off the werewolf - dirt and sweat and illness, a thick, sour stench that he'd been ignoring. But the fever had made it stronger and even Wrxl's whiskers quivered and folded flat, and then edged forward again.

"Ah. Gloves please, Mir, and a mask if you would." As Wrxl shed his Burberry and fedora, Xander came out of the bathroom. Spike saw him freeze for one long moment and then he walked quickly over to the couch and crouched down by Oz's feet, just watching.

"And who is this?" Wrxl asked, snapping a glove on.

"That's the rabbit," Spike said, and Xander shot him a furious glare.

"I’m his friend," Xander said, reaching to lay a protective hand on Oz's blanket-covered foot. "I've been taking care of him."

"I see. Tell me his history, then. Mir? The recorder, if you please." Mir reached back into the bag and pulled out a compact tape-recorder. She clicked a button and held it out to Xander, who took it hesitantly.

"Just speak normally. Now...please begin with his name and age, and go from there." Wrxl began his examination, and Xander began to talk. Spike retreated to the kitchen area, lighting a cigarette and watching. Wrxl was slow - methodical - exacting. He took tiny samples of blood and hair and tissue - he peered with crystals and tested with barely moistened scraps of cotton-wool. He stopped Xander often to have him clarify something, or backtrack, or dig into his memories for some tiny scrap of information. It took over two hours, and by the time he was done Xander's voice was almost gone and he was slumping in an attitude of total exhaustion. The werewolf had drifted up into consciousness once or twice, but never to lucidity and the fever persisted, drenching him in sweat and jerking him tight in paroxysms of shivers. 

_*When did the boy sleep last? It's getting on towards dawn.... Probably hasn't eaten much today, either. Where's that bloody Tod?*_ The last thing he needed was for the boy to get sick, too.

Mir started packing them up and Wrxl came slowly over to Spike, his limp more pronounced. The old demon was tired as well. "What do you think, Wrxl? Is he going to make it or not?"

"Spike, Spike." Wrxl leaned on the counter, his whiskers sagging, his hands trembling just a little. "Of course he will 'make it', as you say. Werewolves are hard to kill - just like vampires, eh? - and he's young, and he started off healthy. The trick here is to minimize the damage caused. The argyria - the silver poisoning - it will be the main thing. We need to get that out of him. We need to get that bit of technology out of his head. Then it will only be a matter of healing. But the first two - those will be the tricky part." Wrxl shook his head slowly, clearly thinking on the difficulty of what lay ahead, and Spike jabbed his cigarette out with unnecessary force, his jaw clenched tight to keep himself from saying anything.

"I have to do a little research. I've left some morphine - it's pure, so please go slowly with it. His system isn't used to anything that strong, and frankly, it's not able to bear much more at this point. I also left some instructions with his young human, there."

"My human," Spike muttered, and Wrxl raised a tentacled eyebrow - nodded slowly.

"As you say." Wrxl looked at him for a long moment - glanced over at Mir, who had shouldered the duffle and was waiting, coat and hat in hand. "He will take an extraordinary amount of care, Spike - and much time, and effort -"

"I can pay you for it, Wrxl. Don't bloody worry about that."

"Oh no, no -" Wrxl held up a thin hand, shaking his head. "We both know that's the furthest thing from my mind, Spike. Viv will see to getting what you owe, you know that. What I meant was.... Is he worth it?" Spike looked sharply at the demon and his own demon snarled - shot to the surface and fixed Wrxl with a cold and steady glare.

"I wouldn't tread on that ground, Wrxl. Not for all the bloody chai there is." Wrxl regarded him silently, his solidly silver-green eyes fixed and steady and blank of any emotion. Then he sighed and nodded.

"As you say, Spike. I'll be off, then. A nap and a drop of - aha - chai, and I can get started on something to leech that silver out of his system. You need to get in a bed for him - some clothes, that sort of thing. I'm sure your human can help." Wrxl eased himself upright - leaned heavily on his cane and limped over to Mir, who helped him on with his coat and hat.

"Goodnight, then."

"Yeah - thanks, Wrxl." Wrxl touched the tips of his fingers to the brim of his hat and together he and Mir went slowly out. Spike followed behind and shut the door, then leaned there for a moment.

 _*Course he's worth it. Stupid old git. Worth it. Saved me, didn't he? I pay my debts….*_ The insistent clamoring - the sounds of pain and ugly pleasure, of despair and horror that whispered along beneath conscious thought at all times - suddenly spiraled louder and Spike pressed his forehead into the door sharply, willing it back down, focusing on the pain. _*Headspace, yeah.... "Be careful. I am death!" It was Karait, the dusty brown snakeling that lies for choice on the dusty earth; and his bite is as dangerous as the cobra's. But he is so small that nobody thinks of him, and so he does the more harm to people. Christ....*_ Spike turned sharply at a noise, but it was only Xander, rummaging in the kitchen cabinets for something. Spike took a deep breath and sauntered over to him and Xander backed a step, wary, and then stood there.

"What are you doing, rabbit?"

"Stop that, Spike. I'm looking for a glass."

"Stop what, rabbit?" Spike asked as slid a step nearer. Xander backed another step and then was still, caught in the corner between the cabinet and the refrigerator.

"Stop calling me _rabbit_ , for fuck's sake."

"It suits you though, luv. Such big brown eyes and silky...hair…." Spike grinned a slow and malicious grin at the boy; reached snake-fast to grab the torn hoodie and pull him close. "And how you quiver, luv, so soft...Dru had a little rabbit once...." Spike nuzzled into the smoky, thick scent that clung in the boy's hair - a dark mix of burnt sugar and sweat, incense and cheap shampoo and an earthy musk that was all his own. _*Morphine and pain and sorrow...black sugar candy….*_

Xander was stiff against him - trembling just as he'd said and Spike had no idea if it was fear or rage - didn't care. He rubbed his cheek into the long strands of hair and then abruptly pulled back and dragged the boy with him to the sink. He turned the tap on and let it run for a moment - put his hand under the cold stream and let his cupped palm fill with water. He looked over at Xander, eyebrow cocked, his smile just small and soft - mocking.

"Thirsty, rabbit? You don't need a glass." Xander's eyes were utterly flat - opaque and dark as clotted paint. He stared at Spike - glanced for a moment towards the werewolf, who was twisting restlessly on the couch. Then he blinked, and turned, and bent down - siphoned up the water from Spike's palm once and then twice and stood up again, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. The trembling was harder now - anger for sure - but he had such a lock on his emotions that Spike had to laugh in sheer delight.

"You'll do nicely, rabbit. Best go sleep a while - you'll be watching over the wolf all day." Xander stared at him - a blind stare, focusing on some internal image, maybe, or listening to a voice in his head. _*Know all about that, don't we….*_

"I hope you meant what you said to that doctor, Spike. 'Cause I'll make you wish you'd never fuckin' met me if you do anything to make Oz worse."

Spike widened his eyes at that, smile going to delighted grin at the nerve of him. "Don't fret, rabbit. I keep my promises and I pay my debts. Wolfling has never had it as good as I'll make it for him." A last, black glare from the boy and then Xander went over to the couch and smoothed Oz's forehead - curled into the corner down by the werewolf's feet and tucked his head down, settling to sleep. Spike watched him for a while, just standing there in the kitchen, his mind going off into little dark places until he shook his head and deliberately broke the mood - went to find a book and settled belly-down on his bed, to wait for Tod and to see if the wolf would wake up.

_*Rabbit, rabbit. But maybe he's more of a mongoose - twisty little thing, all silk and fangs. Time will tell.*_

 

 

Noise woke Spike - familiar and unwelcome noise and he found himself off the bed and moving before he was completely awake. Felt the wall at his back, rough brick, and the rug under his feet. _*Not right, not - where? Hurting the wolf -*_ "What the fuck," he mumbled, blinking, coming awake for real this time and realizing he was in his flat. Between the bed and the wall again, _safe_ here, safe in his lair and in Seattle and he took an unnecessary, _needed_ breath and forced himself to stand upright.

Oz was moaning, twisting on the couch and Spike could see Xander crouching next to him, talking softly. Spike ran a hand through his hair and walked over, leaning on the back. Xander glanced up at him but his attention was all on the thin form that shuddered in his grasp, caught in a nightmare and not waking up.

"Oz, shhhh, I've got you, I've got you, man, its okay, shhhh...." Xander was stroking the sweat-limp hair back, was rubbing Oz's chest and shoulder and trying to get his arms around him but the werewolf thrashed, crying out, and a flailing arm send Xander crashing backwards into the edge of the coffee table, lip split again. Xander shook his head - moved back to the couch. "Oz, Oz, you need to wake up now, come on, Oz, wake up, you're safe, I've got you - Oz - shhhh, wake up now -" Xander's hands were soft and deft and quick, this time, and captured the frantically working arms - pulled the werewolf up against his chest. But even ill, Oz's strength was more than any human could cope with and Xander was knocked back again.

 _*Stubborn little rabbit,*_ Spike thought, grudgingly admiring, and he moved around the couch and got down on his haunches - got his mouth close to the werewolf's ear.

"Come back, wolf - wake up. It's over, you're safe, come _back_ , mate, you hear me? Need you here, wolf - wake up now, wake up -" Oz shivered all over, panting, and then gradually going still. After a moment his breathing evened out and his eyes were open. Still dazed, they tracked uselessly for a moment, not focusing, and then all at once Oz came back to himself and his gaze sharpened on Spike's face. "Wolf - you here now? You awake?" Slim eyebrows went up in surprise and then came down again and Oz jerked away, coming half up off the couch and hurling himself backwards.

" _No_ , you're not...what -?"

"Oz - it's okay! It's okay - you're safe -" Xander's hand on his knee, on his wrist and Oz's lips pulled back in a half-hearted snarl before he blinked and looked again. He relaxed marginally, staring at Xander, then reached out and touched the boy - touched his swollen lip.

"Fuck, man - sorry. I'm sorry."

"Nah - not your fault. It's his fault." Xander glared at Spike, his hand still rubbing lightly at Oz's knee and Oz shifted focus again and looked at Spike as well - took a deep breath.

"Vampire? Is that.... Spike? That you?"

"In the flesh, love." Spike said, and his voice was a little choked.

"There was a - doctor...." The spooked look wasn't entirely gone from Oz's eyes and Spike reached hesitantly and touched his chest, feeling the thunderous pound of the werewolf's heart.

"My doctor. Wrxl. He - fixed me, found a cure. He'll do the same for you."

Oz stared at him, bewildered - looked over at the boy. "Xander?"

"Yeah, Oz. He was here - looked like - some kinda weird catfish or something. He - he knows what he's doing."

_*Vote of confidence from the rabbit. He's awfully...trusting….*_

Oz looked between the two of them and finally he relaxed, running his hand back through his hair and sitting up a little straighter, looking around and blinking. "So not what I was expecting," Oz said, and smiled.

 

Fifteen minutes later he managed to get up and, with Xander's help, get into the bathroom. Xander had filled the big tub up with hot water and soap and Oz slipped in with a sigh, going down in the water until just his nose and eyes and forehead were dry. Xander sat on the tub-edge and watched him, licking over his lip every now and again, his eyes blinking in long, heavy blinks. Asleep for maybe four hours and obviously less then that before. Full moons, Spike thought, watching from the doorway, must be hard.

After a minute Spike went over to the cabinet and got out the bottle - had a shot or two of whiskey and then began haphazardly putting away the stuff Tod had dumped on the kitchen counter - mindless labor to smooth away the rough edges that his waking had made in his mind. Locking things up tight again, with little bits of whispered prose. He turned away from stashing juice in the fridge and was utterly startled to find Xander right there. The demon flashed out, snarling, and Xander froze - turned his gaze and then his head to the side a little, just waiting until Spike collected himself and regained his human features.

 _*Clever rabbit. But that might not be a good reflex to have around me.*_ Spike moved up close to Xander - reached out and ran a finger down the taut line of his throat and Xander's head snapped back around and his gold-brown eyes glared at the vampire.

"Did Oz teach you that, rabbit? Or did you learn it yourself - trial and error kind of thing?"

"Hyenas, I told you," Xander said, pushing roughly past him and getting out the juice Spike had just put away. He opened three cabinets before he found the glasses and then almost dropped one, getting it down. Spike came up behind him, leaning into his heat and his smoky-sweet scent, letting his fingers stroke over the bit of skin that showed in the torn neck of the hoodie. The boy shivered under his fingers, and his hands were tight-clenched fists. He suddenly jabbed an elbow back _hard_ , catching Spike in the ribs and Spike snarled - got his hand in Xander's hair and his head yanked back in about three seconds - let his chin dig into Xander's shoulder and his tongue lick out and taste the pale flesh just _there_ , that throbbed with hidden life. His other arm was tight around Xander's ribs.

"Keep still, rabbit - keep still. I might bite," Spike murmured, grinning fiercely, and the boy _did_ keep still, for all of the space of a breath or two. Then he twisted around, getting in another jab with his elbow, almost stepping on Spike's bare toes.

"I'm taking care of Oz so back the fuck _off_ , Spike!"

Spike felt his eyebrow go up in surprise and he tipped his head a little, looking at the boy. "What's the wolf got to do with you and me, eh?"

"What's he - Jesus Christ!" Xander looked ready to hit something and that darkness was there - hyena-soul, Spike guessed, hovering in the murk at the bottom of the boy's conscious. "It's got _everything_ to do with you and me. I'm - I'm with Oz." Spike felt his eyes widen at that, and the boy's gaze wavered aside for an instant, and Spike smelled the blood that rose under the surface of his skin. "I take care of him, he trusts me. I know - how to make him feel better when he's sick, or having nightmares. He won't _trust_ that Wrxl, no matter what you say, unless I'm there to check up on it. You get it? We're a package deal! So leave me the _fuck_ alone."

The blood - the flush of anger - was delicious and Spike just couldn't help himself - he leaned into the boy, thigh to thigh and belly to belly, his hands on the counter behind Xander. He was half-hard from the thrill of the fight and he knew Xander could feel it - watched the dark eyes widen and the pupils dilate. Spike thought, and sucked up another mouthful of the warm, spicy scent that rolled off the boy with his sweat and his fear.

"If you and the wolf were fucking, I'd know. And you're not. Be very surprised if the wolf could do _anything_ like that, the amount of shite in his system." Spike leaned a little harder, grinding, and the boy's eyes went hooded and narrow, his whole body tense under the vampire. "Is that why you were so quick to get him here, tell us your...safe word? Is that why you're just...taking it?" Spike dipped his head to nuzzle into Xander's hair - let his lips brush wetly over the stubbled jaw and cheek. "You fancy him - you'd do anything for him...." Spike whispered, and Xander's whole body jerked in an excess of nerves and tension. The friction and pressure on his groin was delicious and Spike pressed closer - nibbled on the pulse he could feel thumping wildly in the boy's throat.

Then Xander made a low, growling sort of noise and his arms came up - pushed Spike _hard_ , palms flat to his chest, his whole body springing off the counter and flinging him away. Spike was thrown back a few steps and he growled for real, calling up the demon and pouncing onto the boy, driving him back hard enough to thud him solidly and painfully into the cabinets; _crack_ of his head into a door and Spike's fangs right there, biting down, just breaking the skin. The growl got louder and Spike shook the boy, just a little - twisted the hand that was in his hair, making Xander utter a tiny whimper. His other hand was in the small of Xander's back, keeping him still. Nothing then, for a long moment and Spike drew back a little - licked the two welling drops of blood on the boy's neck with a little shiver of delight. He could taste the _otherness_ in the boy, and it was intoxicating.

"Xander?" Oz called, his voice a little cracked and wavering, and Xander looked towards the bathroom - looked back at Spike, and whatever had fueled the rage and the fight was gone, like that.

"Let me be, Spike. Don't make it harder on Oz." Their gazes locked for a long moment and then Spike stepped back, letting his hand slide slowly out of the thick hair - off his back.

"Best go see to him, rabbit. Don't want him to drown." Xander stared at him for one more moment - scrubbed shaking hands back through his hair and went, head down. Spike watched him disappear into the bathroom and leaned on the counter, listening.

_"Hey man, what'dya need?"_

_"Just a drink... You all right?" A moment's silence and a sigh._

_"I'm fine. Just getting things...settled...with Spike, you know? Don't put your feet on the coffee table, don't leave your towels on the floor, that kind of stuff." Strained humor in his voice and there was a moment's splashing noise from the tub._

_"I can smell the blood. What'd he do?"_

_"Just.... Nothing. Pack stuff, I guess. That's what it feels like."_

_"He's not the right pack."_

_"Neither are you, if you wanna get picky." Soft laughter from Oz, and then a sort of groaning sigh. "This feels so fucking good. You think - this doctor, Wrxl - think he knows what he's doing?"_

A faint but perceptible tremble in the wolf's voice on the word 'doctor' and Spike closed his eyes momentarily, _remembering. *No, fucking **no** , damnit...*_

_"He seemed like he knew his job. He asked a lot of questions.... I'm sorry, I just - I told him everything I could. I didn't want to...lay out your private stuff but... I think he really could help you, Oz."_

_"It's okay…."_

Oz said something else, his voice low, but Spike couldn't hear him anymore. He put his head down in his hands - leaned his elbows on the counter, trying frantically to switch things _off_ , but the clamoring voices were getting louder and the sick smell of his own perpetually burnt flesh and ill body and the rank, poisoned blood he was forced to eat was thick in his nostrils. Old pain flared along his nerves and he pressed his fists into his temples, eyes screwed shut.

_"Brothers, that was a dog's death," said Mowgli, feeling for the knife he always carried in a sheath round his neck now that he lived with men. "But he would never have shown fight. His hide will look well on the Council Rock. We must get to work swiftly."_

_A boy trained among men would never have dreamed of skinning a ten-foot tiger alone, but Mowgli knew better than any one else how an animal's skin is fitted on and how it can be taken off. But it was hard work, and Mowgli slashed and tore and grunted for an hour, while the wolves lolled out their tongues, or came forward and tugged as he ordered them."_

A plain of grass, with the moon high in the still, sultry air. The roar of life from a jungle heavy and wet and green as crushed emeralds. Blood-scent, but good, clean blood. And the scent of rain, and cattle - dung and the hot dustiness of their hides. It was so real Spike could see it - he could _smell_ it and it stilled the voices, stilled the ghost-pain. Washed it away.

"Spike?" Soft voice - not the wolf but some other voice. Gentle voice, not too close. "Spike? Wake up now." Spike took in a long breath, scenting. That first, always, because that sense had never left him even when the others had failed, or tricked him. He smelled cigarettes and candle wax and soap heavy with cloves. He smelled the wolf, but there was no fear, only illness. He smelled burnt sugar and sweat and blood rich with _want_ and he finally opened his eyes. Stared down at the green granite counter top for a long moment and then raised his head. The boy just there, a few feet away. Looking at him, anxious and a little afraid.

 _*But no pity. Wolf'll have teased **that** out of him, thank Christ.*_ The wolf was leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, thick towel around his waist, another around his shoulders, the silver poisoning making him look like a ghost, like the walking dead and Spike shivered and stood up.

"What is that?" Xander asked, low, and Oz walked slowly across the floor - touched the boy's shoulder and then leaned there.

"It's headspace. His is Kipling and Keats and Chaucer, mine is -"

"Whatever your stoner brain can remember," Spike said softly, quoting the wolf back to himself, and Oz smiled.

"Yeah. Hey, you think I could borrow some clothes, Spike? I'm kinda cold." Spike noticed, finally, that the werewolf was shivering and Xander looked sharply over at him - touched his forehead.

"Fever's back, damnit," Xander muttered, and Spike turned to the bags still on the counter - dug out a bright blue and white box.

"Here - Tod got aspirin." He tossed the box to the boy and went to find clothes for Oz. He had some soft flannel pants and loose sweaters, things he liked to wear when he's alone and curled into the heat of his lair - when he fired up the antique wood-burner in the corner and basked in the heat. The wolf'd swim in them, but they'd be warm. He heard Xander tearing open the box and snapping the safety seal - cursing a little when the cap fought him. He found the clothes and went back, watching Oz swallow four of the pills and drain the glass of dark-red juice and then stand there, head to one side and hand lightly on his stomach.

"Gonna keep it down?" Xander asked, and Oz nodded marginally.

"So long as I don't - jostle around," Oz pulled the towel away from his neck and accepted the sweater Spike held out to him - pulled it on and grinned down at his hands, which were lost in the floppy sleeve-ends. Xander rolled them up for him and then took the pants himself - held them while Oz carefully climbed in. He was shivering now and he shuffled over to the couch and curled himself into the corner of it, pulling the blanket over himself and shutting his eyes. "I'm - gonna be out of it," he said softly, and Xander picked up his damp towels.

"It's okay, Oz. Just sleep, if you can."

"Yeah," Oz breathed, and then he was slipping down further on the couch, his breathing ragged with the shivers but deepening, and Spike stood watching him, barely aware of Xander tidying the towels away, pulling the plug on the tub.

"Spike?" Spike blinked - became aware that Xander had probably said his name more than once.

"What, rabbit?" Xander frowned, but his knitted cap was in his hands, and he pulled it on.

"I'm going to go back to our - to our old place. Get our stuff. I need a change of clothes and Oz has some things.... I don't want his stuff getting stolen." Spike just stared at him and Xander's eyes narrowed. Anger, in his scent. "You know I'll come back."

"Yeah, I know." Spike considered for a moment, and then he put his thumb to his mouth - bit, and let the blood well up. He reached over and smeared a line of it under the raveling edge of the hoodie and Xander just stood there, still scowling. _*But not stopping me. Brave rabbit.*_ "There's beasties out there. This'll keep most away."

"It's not even noon," Xander snapped. Spike shrugged, and found his keys on the counter - handed them over. Xander's eyes were steady on his, and he saw the tiny flicker there when the boy took the keys slowly from his hand. Then Spike went over to the couch and settled in the corner opposite Oz, eyes on the werewolf again.

"You know all the beasties aren't asleep during the day, rabbit. Hurry back, now." Xander stood for a moment longer and then he was gone, sliding the heavy door shut behind him and cursing softly over the elevators sticky gears. Spike just watched the rise and fall of Oz's chest - slow and hypnotic, lulling. He was asleep five minutes later.

 

It took a week for them to settle in. In that time Spike had another bed brought in, and linens for it. More towels and a box full of cooking things. Xander himself went shopping the second day, digging money out of a duffle and stomping off. But the wolf was comfortable now - was up and moving on his own. Every day out from the full moon saw him get a little better. But there were troubling gaps in his memory, and he forgot about _things_ , sometimes. Sat holding a comb for five minutes, just staring at it until Xander came and took it out of his hand and combed his hair for him. Spike had looked away from the wolf, then, to let him wipe his eyes and compose himself in private.

Wrxl was working on something to get the silver out of Oz, a combination of science and magic, he'd said, and Spike had just shrugged. Whatever worked, really. The hardest thing was the hardware the Initiative had put in. Magic and electricity didn't mix well, and Wrxl didn't want to take a chance on frying the wolf's brains right along with the chip. He wanted to know why the one they'd put in _Spike's_ head didn't work anymore, and Spike told him, even though it made him remember.

"It was the night the Initiative went down. The - doctor.... They were doing something to it. Had me all - opened up like a fuckin' can of beans, didn't they? 'Modifying', that little fuck said." Spike lifted a trembling hand to his mouth and took a long drag on his cigarette, breathing in smoke and chai and herb scents - _Xanders_ scent, since he'd come to the club that night to see if Vivian would give him a job down in the kitchens or something. The scent, wolf and boy, mingled with the homey smells of Spike's own lair calmed him some, but not enough.

_"After this, then, I'm sure you'll be able to come out of that cell - have your own room down the hall with the other chosen few." The doctor patted his shoulder, oblivious to the raw burn that was there. He reeked of the Latex gloves he wore and a thick, choking aftershave and Spike thought he might vomit if his stomach hadn't been so utterly and completely empty. He was shivering hard - freezing. Naked on this table - in this room - tied down like a fucking sacrifice or a dog at the vets, and the doctor bustled cheerily, his curling fringe of ginger hair and round, flushed face making him look bizarrely like a monk._

_"No more of that other face, after this," the doctor chuckled, and Spike had jerked reflexively at the manacles on his wrists, terror flooding through him. What did he mean? What was he doing? He twisted in his bonds, uncaring that the dull metal edge was re-opening the ring of scar-tissue around his wrists and ankles._

_A soldier standing at his ease by the door watched for a moment and then approached, the taser in his hand held up and waiting. Spike stilled instantly, hissing. The fucking tasers **hurt** , they burned him, and on his diet of poisoned or half-rotted blood, he couldn't heal. He was covered in burns - some new, some old, all raw and stinking of scorched flesh and the rank blood he was given. The soldier nodded once, smirking, and retreated as the doctor patted Spike's hurt shoulder again._

_"There now, fear of the unknown. After this, if you try to bring forth your demonic form, you'll receive a negative reinforcement from the chip. And, in fact, if you **stay** in your demonic form, you will most likely receive enough stimulation from the chip to adversely affect your synapses. Although, not right away." The doctor tipped his head a little, looking at Spike._

_"Now, that might actually be an interesting experiment - just how **much** stimulation would it take to cause permanent brain damage? Oh, my, I must speak to the Colonel about this - a whole new area of investigation...." The doctor bustled away again, tapping things into the computer that was against the far wall, consulting his notes. Spike closed his eyes, searching for something - anything - to distract him. He would be nothing, after this. Nothing at all. A tiger on a leash - muzzled. Worse - a tiger whose teeth had been pulled and is let loose to play with the kiddies, because no one fears him. Spike was shaking so hard now that the doctor was fussing at him, and he tried desperately to sink into the headspace the wolf had been teaching him. Tried to find some words of beauty or power that would let him escape this hell._

_But the horror at what the doctor was preparing to do was too much and he couldn't. He had uttered no words - to doctors or soldiers - for two solid months. The doctor thought it was something to do with the chip, but Spike had simply decided to stop letting them hear him. Disgust or pain or grief, he was silent. Only Oz - only the wolf heard his voice. Heard his whispered stories and poems and terrified groans when he thrashed in the grip of nightmare. In a minute, though, he felt sure he was going to start screaming. And if he did, he was certain he wouldn't be able to stop._

_The doctor was fiddling around - hooking something to the chip, Spike knew. Delicate little leads that would begin a death-sentence of uncertain length. As the doctor hummed to himself, adjusting things, Spike began to hear noises. Shouting - screams - distant explosions. The lights in the room flickered and dimmed - came back up. The doctor looked up at them, frowning._

_"Oh, we can't have this! Stockton - go and see what's going on, would you?" The soldier nodded and turned - opened the door and the noises instantly became louder - loud enough for even the humans to hear._

_"Doc, I think -" Stockton started to say, and then there was the massive, earth-trembling **crump** of an explosion and every light in the ceiling exploded. The computer terminal went up in a shower of sparks and the power to the leads surged wildly. And Spike **did** scream then, as the electricity crackled through and through him; enough to make him arch up high off the table, his spine cracking and bending and close to breaking as every muscle locked. A moment later it was over and Spike slumped back, his vision gone, a tinny ringing in his ears. He felt as if his whole body were on fire, and his head was full of ground glass and acid._

_As the power went out, emergency lights cut in and the room was washed in red. "Oh damnit!" The doctor swore. Spike could feel something - could feel the Doc putting a hasty bandage over the fucking hole in his skull, the one they wouldn't let heal. Made it easier for them, didn't it?_

_"Get him back to his cell! What is going **on** out there? If that surge has damaged my best subject, I am really going to have words with the Colonel!" The doctor was shouting at Stockton, who kicked the lock on the gurney wheels and began to roll it out of the room and down the hall - back to the cells. A few moments more and the familiar scent of the wolf was there - other demons were held here as well, but the wolf-smell was the strongest after his own. So he knew where he was, even though he still couldn't see very well. Spots and sparks in his vision, flares of color and floating black blobs. He blinked furiously, and the moment the manacles were unlocked he rubbed and rubbed his eyes, hoping to clear them Thinking that maybe he could get the fuck **out** of there, if there was some sort of emergency. Stockton dumped him to the floor and he heard the gurney roll out - heard and smelled the doc come close._

_"Here now, Seventeen, you drink this. You'll need to heal up from that before we can do anything else. Damn military incompetence, **never** trust the government…." The doc aimed one last, excruciating slap at his shoulder and then he was gone and the cell door closed. Spike could feel two blood bags against his hand. He lifted them and tentatively sniffed at them. Even through the plastic he could smell human blood - pure, undrugged, and **fresh** \- and he tore into them and drank, forgetting in his rush the 'tweak' the doctor was supposed to have made. Apparently he didn't have the time, because the demon emerged with no jolt of pain and Spike swallowed and swallowed the first pure blood he'd had in months.._

_*Fucker wants me well,* he thought, shivering. There were still screams - shouts - going on overhead, and another explosion shook the floor - made the lights here flicker, as well. They were one level below the main complex, but whatever was happening was reaching here, too, and when all the blood was in him Spike's eyesight slowly came back to him. He saw his clothes, piled in the corner like always - the doctor won't let him leave the cell clothed - and he crept across the floor and laboriously dressed, every piece, even his boots and duster. He had a feeling something was going to happen..._

_Fifteen minutes later, it did. The cell doors slid open as the lights went out and the red emergency bulbs flared to life. He forced his aching, burning body to its feet - staggered out of the cell. For the first time in six months, he was outside of the cell and on his feet - not flat on his back and his demon was triumphant - eager to get out. He looked over and saw the wolf, and he smiled._

_It took him a week of starvation to get desperate enough to attack a human, and he'd ripped the old wino to pieces when he'd realized that he could - that the chip was truly dead. Two days later he was in Seattle, presenting himself to Vivian. Someone he'd known, years ago - a contact he'd never forgotten. And she'd taken one look at him and turned him over to Wrxl, who'd muttered 'Initiative'. At that moment, Spike had finally felt safe._

 

Spike sat for a long time after telling Wrxl what had happened, listening with half an ear to the old demon going over texts and muttering to himself. Mir was on a computer, researching computer chips and Wrxl stood over her, getting in the way and making wild stabs at the keyboard. Spike was listening to a voice in his head - the wolf's voice - telling him a poem to drive the memories away and he almost forgot that the rabbit was there, and had heard it all.

_*I hold in my hand this cup...this ritual...this slice of womb woven of birchbark strips and the woolly part of a burst cocoon...all mortared with mud and chinked with papers of snakeskin...I hold in my hand this carcass this wintered-over thing….*_

 

Xander shifted a little in his chair, taking another tentative sip of the chai Wrxl gave him, as if not certain that he liked it yet, even though he had drunk half the cup. _*He'll smell like that all night,*_ Spike thought, fingers absently stroking the faint but still-there scars around his wrist. _*Like cardamom and cloves and ginger.*_ Wrxl exclaimed suddenly, something about _'a chip that stops epileptic seizures!'_ and Spike scrambled for the rest of the poem, the memory almost banished now, if he could just force the door shut and get it locked. Use once again the key the wolf gave him.

_*What are they made of, these string sacks...these tweezered and gluey cells can only be said of a house...of plumb bobs and carpenters' awls...God of the topmost branch...god of the sheltering leaf...fold your wing over. Keep secret and keep safe.*_

"Keep secret, keep safe," Spike murmured, and felt himself relax fully. Things tidied up - voices shut down - and now he wanted to get a drink and see what was what. It was nearly closing time, and Tod was with the wolf, keeping an eye out. Spike stirred in his seat and got up, and Xander looked up at him.

"Come on, rabbit. Let's go see what Viv has for you so you can earn your keep. I'm not keeping you in food and drink."

"I buy it for Oz, too," Xander muttered, standing as well, and Spike grinned at him.

"Oh, I'll buy for the wolf. But he never said he had a pet, so - you have to earn your own."

"I'm not his _pet_ , Spike, we've been friends for years," Xander said, scowling.

Spike stepped up close to him, crowding him against the chair, catching the shoulder of Xander's baggy flannel shirt in one hand and curling the fingers of his other hand lightly around Xander's throat. "You could be _my_ pet. I'd buy you a pretty collar an' all.... Wouldn't you like that, rabbit?" Xander's chest was just touching his and Spike could feel the faint vibration that was his heart pounding - could feel the brush of cloth as Xander's chest rose and fell with his angry, panting breaths.

"Fuck you, Spike. Not in a million fucking years." His eyes were furious - the darkness of that other thing in him fighting to get out - to attack. But Xander didn't move and Spike stroked his throat - his jaw - inhaling lazily, his mouth open just a little so he could taste as well as scent. The blood-anger-fear- _want_ that came off the boy was enough to make him achingly hard.

"Oh rabbit - you know you want to," Spike murmured, and he leaned in close, feeling the tension in the boy in the tremors through all his muscles - in the hitching breaths. He rubbed his cheek against the sleek, mink-brown hair - curled his hand in the heavy stuff at the base of Xander's skull and tipped his head just a little, so he could whisper right in his ear. "Just say the word, rabbit. Just tell me - tell me you're mine and I'll take care of you, sweet...."

Xander jerked, trying to twitch away but there was nowhere to go and he ended up back where he started - closer, even, as the rebound of his aborted flight pressed him the length of Spike's body. "Leave me alone, Spike," Xander whispered and the demon came to the fore at the tremor that was in Xander's voice - the huskiness that dropped it to a low moan.

"Course I will, rabbit. Anything you say," Spike breathed, and he pressed his face for one more minute into the heated flesh of Xander's neck. And then he slid away, heading out of Wrxl's office and up to Viv's, and after a moment he could hear Xander behind him. He found Viv on the phone, as usual and waited with as much patience as he could muster. He felt jittery - felt like a fight, since he wasn't going to get a fuck, apparently, from the boy.

 _*And he'd be nice to fuck, I'll bet. Bet that darkness comes out when he fucks - bet he likes it rough.*_ Xander sidled into the office, looking sullen and a little lost and Spike grinned at him. _*Or maybe he just clings and begs. Either would be nice.*_ Xander avoided his grin and pointedly turned his back, looking at the art Vivian had on her walls. Too modern for Spike's taste, really.

"So, Spike," Viv said, clicking her phone off and smiling up at him. "Everything going well, then?"

"Just grand, luv. Come to see about the boy, though."

Viv looked over at Xander, who had turned around and now stood there, his fists shoved into his pockets and his shoulders hunched. "The boy?" she asked, her delicate eyebrows going up, and Spike had to chuckle.

"Yeah. Needs to earn his keep, he does. I wonder, would you have anything for him here?" Now Viv's eyebrows were practically in her hairline, and Spike wanted to laugh. He knew _exactly_ where this was going.

"Spike, darling, he _is_ absolutely stunning in a very - collar and leash sort of way. But you _know_ we only use demonic entertainment here."

"What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?" Xander snapped, and Spike reached over and snatched a handful of hair - yanked the boy close.

"Don't talk like that in front of the lady, rabbit." Xander didn't move - didn't blink - and a moment later Spike let him go. He lowered his head but the glare he sent Spike's way from under his lashes was deadly.  
"Viv, luv, he's not looking to be entertainment - although he _does_ provide that unintentionally. Maybe something in a behind-the-scenes sort of way?"

"Oh. Oh! Yes, I see." Viv smirked and looked Xander up and down. He looked away, biting his lip. "What have you done lately? Anything useful?" Viv asked, and Xander turned to look at her.

"Did some bar tending. Did some construction." He shrugged, looking away again. "I can do 'bout anything if you show me once."

"Hrmmm...." Viv said, leaning back in her chair. "Actually, I've been looking for a handy-man. A sort of jack-of-all-trades. Someone who can fix a lock or set up lights...break a bone, keep a secret...." Xander lifted his head, looking straight at her and that darkness, that hyena was right _there_ , glittering stare that made Viv go very, very still.

"I'm your man, then," Xander said, and there was the slightest curl of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth. He looked -

 _*Fuck, looks like malice on two legs. That's a delicious look on you, rabbit.*_ Spike wanted to reach out and pet the boy but Vivian was nodding - talking about schedules - and he decided not to interrupt. 

"Well, that should do it, then. See you on Friday, Xander. Spike - tomorrow, then?"

"As always, Viv. Thanks, luv."

"Anything for you, Spike," Viv smiled, and Spike grinned at her and turned - sauntered out of her office. Last call went out, and Spike watched a soldier come downstairs and head for the bar. Beside him, Xander stiffened and drew in a hard breath.

"What, rabbit?"

"Soldiers come here? Are they -?"

"Had a few ex-Initiative," Spike murmured, leaning against the wall and watching the dark-haired human get a shot - toss it back and say something to the bartender, who laughed.

"What - what do - I mean -" Xander seemed unusually upset by the soldier and Spike turned his head a little to look at him. Saw that the boy was pale as paper - trembling. Fear and anger coming off him in equal measures and Spike raised a mental eyebrow.

 _*So, something else here. Interesting. Think we'll try and coax it out of the boy.*_ "I've my own way of dealing with soldiers here, rabbit. Want to see?" Spike turned so Xander could see him fully and vamped, lifting his lips in a snarling grin that would take the starch right out of most anyone who saw it. Xander's heartbeat jumped violently but the fear-scent didn't increase. Something else crept into the mix - excitement. And arousal, like a dash of lemony pepper to the opium-sugar that was Xander's usual olfactory mix. Xander stared at him - looked over at the soldier and the hyena-grin was back, sly and glinting, and Spike laughed. This - was going to be fun.

 

 

This soldier was some sort of special kind - the American equivalent of the SAS, Spike supposed - and he eluded them for some time. But no human could ever truly elude a hunting vampire, and Xander moved beside him like a wraith - silent, graceful, and as greedy for blood as Spike was.

They ended it, finally, quite near Spike's usual hidey-hole: frightened humans herded well. The man had gotten himself partway up a rusting ladder and was trying to pry the manhole cover off and be silent, as well. His composure and his training had slowly deserted him as Spike and Xander had trailed him through the dark. Mostly because Spike had kept up a running commentary of what he'd done to the other soldiers he'd brought down here, complete with name and rank. This soldier, Spike knew, had recognized the names of 'Missing, presumed dead' companions.

Now he hung above them in the near-blackness, his panting breath whistling through his nose, his trembling muscles not up to the task of heaving the manhole cover free. Spike lit a cigarette and watched the man cringe from the sudden light, and he grinned up at him.

"Good run, Joe. Why not come down now - see if you can make a deal? Might let you go if you can...do something." The soldier stared at him - at Xander. At two not-so-big or old men. Something was going through his mind - Spike could see it - and he saw the moment when the soldier's training told him he was more than a match for a boy and a slender punk. _*Come on down, Joe - come on down. I think the rabbit wants to have a few words with you.*_

The soldier climbed down a few rungs - dropped the rest of the way and Xander took a step forward, head down and hands in fists at his side. Spike reached out and laid his hand on Xander's neck, curling his fingers in the long hair. "Slow and easy does it, pet," he said, and the soldier's eyes narrowed, and his stance shifted - straighter and a touch more confident.

"Fuckin' fags," hissed, and Spike smiled at him. But Xander launched himself, a flat, deadly leap that drove the soldier back _hard_ into the wall and the ladder. His skull rung off the curved re-bar and he dropped like a stone. Xander crouched over him and Spike lost his smile.

"Better not have killed him, rabbit," he said, walking over. Xander looked up and Spike froze in complete surprise. The boy's eyes were glowing a deep greenish-gold, and his face was twisted in a snarl that showed all his teeth. One hand darted out and twisted up a fistful of the green dress jacket and Xander rose, hauling the limp body up with a jerk. His other hand smacked solidly into Spike's chest, driving him back a step.

"It's _mine_ ," Xander growled, and his voice was hoarse and guttural. No fear in his scent, only rage and lust and something sharply foreign - a heavy, rich musk that made the demon roar to the surface. Spike slammed into Xander, his hands on the boy's throat, driving him back into the wall hard enough to make his breath _ummph_ out of him. His hold on the soldier was lost and the unconscious man tumbled to the floor. They were nose to nose, foreheads almost touching, and Spike _roared_ , the sound reverberating down the tunnels and making the boy hiss and snap his teeth and cringe, all at the same time.

"He's yours if I _say_ he's yours, rabbit. Don't forget who's the master here and who's the fucking pet." Spike shook him a little and Xander tried to break his hold, tried to knock his arms up and apart. Spike just leaned a little harder into him - grinned fiercely when he felt the hard ridge of the Xander's erection dig into his thigh. Xander's hands clawed at the sleeves of his duster.

"I said - only if _I_ say. Do. You. Understand?" Spike knocked him back into the wall with each word, leaning his whole body into Xander's and grinding his hips. Xander was drawing painful, desperate breaths and Spike eased his choke-hold the tiniest bit - kissed him roughly with fangs and tongue, sucking at the blood that welled from his wounded mouth. "What's the answer, rabbit?" Spike breathed, hips still rocking into the boy's, forehead to forehead. The demonic features pressed into Xander human ones and Xander twisted violently, once and then sagged in Spike's grip.

"Y-yessss, you fuck, _yes_."

"Yes what?" Spike purred, licking stray drops of blood from lips and chin and Xander's hips bucked up, his hands locked on Spike's forearms, death-grip that would leave bruises on a human.

"Yes, I _understand_ ," Xander rasped, and this time when Spike lapped at the last traces of blood his mouth parted and Spike shivered in delight as Xander's tongue slid along his briefly - flickered over his fangs.

" _Good_ rabbit. Sweet rabbit," Spike crooned, and he let one hand drop to Xander's hip and force him a little closer, feeling the cool rush of indrawn breath as his fingernails dug deep, making cuts in the jeans Xander wore. "You'll get a reward for that," Spike whispered. The soldier, forgotten on the wet concrete, choose that moment to stir and make a moaning sort of noise, and Spike considered, glancing down at him briefly. One hard stomp of a well-placed heel and he could snap the man's sternum and crush his heart. Dead in a minute and then he could get on with...rewards. But he felt Xander twitch - saw the flare in the boy's eyes, the hyena coming back, and Spike decided he wanted to know how far - how much - how deep. He kissed Xander again, crushing split lips back against his teeth and then let him go -backed off. "Let's get him into my parlor, shall we?" Spike asked, and Xander - hands on thighs, coughing - looked up at Spike and grinned.

The scavengers hadn't had as much time with the last soldier as the next-to-last, and there was still wizened flesh on the strung-out bones. The odor of rot tinged the still air, and Xander stood stock still for a moment and then moved over towards the corpse, reaching out.

 _*Hyenas and carrion. That's one habit we don't want to encourage.*_ "Don't touch it, rabbit. Hard to get the stink off. The wolf wouldn't like it." Half-crouching over the remains Xander glanced up and then moved slowly away. Spike dumped the soldier to the floor and dug into his duster for the handcuffs that the vamp-cop had never reclaimed. He rolled the soldier on his belly and tightened them around his wrists, and then went to kick at the corpse, knocking the skull away so he could free the chain. That he unlocked and wound around the hand-cuff chains and then re-locked. The soldier stirred again, trying to sit up. Spike lit the Coleman lantern and turned it to a pleasant golden glow, then went to lean on the wall near the entry, taking advantage of a stray breeze to clear the smell from his nose a little. He lit a cigarette and watched bewilderment and then comprehension wash over the soldier's face as he struggled upright.

Xander was pacing the confines of the room, a sort of oubliette, except you got in at floor-level. He idly kicked bones and bits of metal - uniform insignia and belt buckles - and then bent down and picked up a shattered thigh-bone. He turned it in his hands and then walked over to the soldier who was on his knees, watching them. Xander crouched down and showed the man the bone, fingering the sharp edges where it had fractured and split. The soldier flinched away from him, panting a little. 

"What the f-fuck do you want? Why am I here?"

"Lots of reasons," Xander said softly, tapping the bone on the man's knee. "Mostly because your kind....fucked up."

" _My_ kind? What the hell -?" Xander stared at the man, and Spike could see the unearthly glow in his eyes - could see that there was blood on his mouth still and when Xander skinned his lips back, silent snarl, there was blood on his teeth.

"Your kind. Humans. _Soldiers_. You know, he - "and Xander pointed at Spike with the bone - "did this with his hands, I'll bet. Wanna see how?" And that grin was back. 

_*Rabbit, rabbit - you're a quick learner,*_ Spike thought, and he flicked his cigarette butt away and stepped up, morphing into the demon. "Be happy to demonstrate," he said, and the man screamed.

 

Xander glanced up from where he was crouching, and Spike saw there was a smear of blood across his cheek. He'd taken t-shirt and flannel off - _'Don't want to get them all gory, do I?'_ \- and his skin was the color of a chamois in the lamplight. The figure stretched before him bubbled out a thin stream of blood and made a noise rather like a pig being killed. Xander drew his hand back from the hole in the man's side and regarded the blood and bits of tissue that clung to his fingers and knuckles.

"So tell me, rabbit. Why do you hate the soldiers so?"

Xander's hand clenched to a fist and he pressed the knuckles to his mouth, oblivious to the gore. "I don't...want…."

"Course you do, rabbit. Or, rather, you may _not_ , but you _will_. One way or another, you'll tell me." Xander glanced up at him again and Spike could hear his heartbeat picking up - could smell old fear creeping up in him. "It's all right, rabbit. I'm here," he coaxed, and Xander reached out tentatively towards the soldier again, tapping his fingers along the man's bared chest. The soldier twitched minutely but was too weak to do anything else.

"They - were running all over Sunnydale. Especially after that Dr. Walsh tried to kill Buffy. They started getting - out of control. Had this idea that if you weren't with 'em - you were against 'em." Xander looked up at Spike again and licked his blood-smeared lips nervously. Then he paused and licked them again, slow. He looked at his hand and his tongue went out, to lick a spot on the back of his hand clean. "Is - does it -?"

"Blood later, pet. Story first." Spike lit a cigarette and came to crouch opposite the boy, ignoring the useless convulsion that wracked the soldier's body as he tried to get away from the vampire.

"They - were hunting us, too. Scoobies." There was a wealth of longing and rage and sorrow in that word - in Xander's green-glowing eyes, and Spike smoked and watched him lower his head and rub his cleaner hand back through his hair, then look up at Spike again. "They wanted to get Buffy - back. She'd been working with them for a while...." Xander stopped again and held his hand out, his fingers trembling, and Spike passed him the cigarette. The boy smoked, one, two, then three drags, staring at nothing in particular. Then he handed the cigarette back. Spike could taste the soldier's blood on the filter.

"We were out, patrolling. We finished and Buffy and Willow went back to the dorms. I - was cutting across campus and four of them were there. I didn't think.... It seemed too open. Too many - people. But they saw me and got me into this little...place. Like a little garden area. All sunk." Xander stroked his bloodied hand down the soldier's stomach - let his fingers rest on the shivering muscles just below his navel. Spike had shredded his trousers away earlier, demonstrating how easily thigh-bones broke. 

"They wanted to know.... Can't even remember." Xander dug his nails into the soldier's belly and the man choked, moaning. His arms were beneath him and Spike could hear the soldier's fingers scrabbling at the concrete. "I think - they wanted to know about Buffy. Hit me some. But -" Xander shrugged - dragged his nails down lower and the soldier kicked feebly with his heels. Spike reached without looking and slapped him across the face.

"Quiet, Joe. You're interrupting. Go on, pet. What happened?"

Xander's nails were half sunk into the flesh just above the soldier's penis now, and blood welled sluggishly from around them. "Not like I never got hit. It didn't.... I didn't care much. But then they.... Did you ever notice, Spike, how the really macho guys - the really big soldier types - they all have this weird… _thing_...about gay sex?"

Spike blinked and finished his cigarette - put it out absently on the nearest bit of bloodied flesh. _*What in fuck is he talking about? What 'thing'?*_ "What do you mean, Xander?"

Xander's fingers went deeper and the soldier squealed - rolled his hips, trying to get away. Xander whipped his head around, snarling, and the glow was back. He pressed down _hard_ and the man arched, his mouth open in a soundless scream. "I _mean_ \- they think the best thing in the fucking world is two girls going at it, and the _worst_ fucking thing is two guys. They think - if they do that to somebody, it'll break 'em right in half." Xander pulled his hand back slowly, then stroked a little lower. The soldier's scrotum was empty and ragged, a bloody flap.

" _Did_ you, love? Break right in half?" Spike asked, and Xander looked sharply up at him, his mouth open just a little, his eyes feral and glowing but wet.

"Not even when they fucking used the barrel of their fucking guns. Funny, they all got hard for it, too." Xander's voice had dropped, sibilant growl, and Spike shivered all over.

_*Oh, the beast loves this.... Tease that beast out - kiss it and call it and collar it. And won't it look fine, at the end of my lead….*_

"They tried to.... Well, they _tried_. But the first one that put _this_ -" and Xander grasped the soldier's flaccid penis, holding it almost lovingly in the palm of his hand. "He got a very bad surprise. Did you know - a hyena's jaws can exert almost one thousand pounds of pressure per square inch?" Xander's hand closed down slowly, and the man jerked. "A human bite's nowhere near that, but this flesh -" and Xander squeezed harder, " _this_ flesh is damn fragile, really. I bit right through it. Had to actually - spit some out, when they dragged him away." Xander grinned up at Spike from beneath his eyelashes, his hand abruptly opening and going back to the hole, to probe inside. The soldier thrashed weakly, and Spike knew he was close to being dead. "What'dya think, Spike? Think I can pull his fuckin' dick up through his stomach from the inside?"

Spike put his hand on the soldier's chest and leaned forward, bracing on snapped ribs. He slid his other hand around the back of Xander's neck and pulled him close. Xander resisted for a moment and then leaned in as well, and his forearm slipped inside, pushing up a bulge in the soldier's abdomen. The kiss was slow and thorough, and Spike drew back with a small smile on his lips. Xander's eyes were half-closed, and he ran the tip of his tongue out, touching the underside of his upper lip.

"Why don't you find out, pet, and then we'll get home. The wolf is probably missing us." Xander blinked and nodded - looked down at the soldier's face.

"Yeah. He's getting' all - dead. Time to go."

 

 

Oz was pissed at him, and although Spike knew _what_ he was pissed about, he wasn't exactly sure he knew _why_. They'd got back to his flat an hour before sun-up and Xander had gone straight into the bathroom. Thirty-seven minutes later and the shower was still running and Spike was getting a little pissed about _that_. He gave up on the shot-glass and just carried the bottle of whiskey over to the couch. Laid down and got his legs between the couch-back and Oz, shoving pillows under his head and enjoying the warmth. The couch was wide enough for it to be supremely comfortable. Oz was in the corner of the couch, his back against the arm and a blanket over his legs.

"Tell me again," Spike said, "I don't get it," and Oz just looked at him.

"You're not _going_ to get it, Spike. That just...wasn't a good idea." Oz reached out to the coffee table and carefully picked up a glass of some sort of juice. His hand shook a little as he carried it to his mouth and he drank slowly, in tiny, separate mouthfuls. He was - not _better_ , really. Not unconscious, not fevered, at least. But the silver poisoning kept him weak - made it hard for him to eat or to sleep soundly, made even getting up and walking painful. _'Like an electric shock that just doesn't end,'_ Oz said, _'like my bones are eroding and jamming up the gears...hurts to fucking blink, sometimes.'_

He pushed his morphine free time as far as he could, but he still spent the better part of the day swooning in an opiate haze. He was too thin, and Spike had begun to wonder if he would even wake up from the next full moon. As a result, he'd pestered Wrxl until the old demon refused to talk to him anymore. 

"He wasn't afraid. I'd have smelled it. He _wanted_ it," Spike said, third or fourth time, and Oz leaned forward and put the juice back down, the glass chattering on the table a little.

"No, the _hyena_ wanted it. That's different. That's...something else."

"Part of him," Spike said, shrugging, taking a long drink of his whisky, and Oz leaned back on the arm of the couch, pulling the blanket a little higher.

"It is, but.... It's not a part he wants."

"Doesn't matter what he wants, does it? It's there, and it's not going anywhere, far as I can tell. He's not human anymore - he's like us. Why bother pretending?" Spike really did want to understand. For Xander to deny what the vampire had seen - had _sensed_ \- would be like himself trying to deny his demon. Impossible, and ultimately fatal. It made no _sense_ , and while Spike dimly grasped that there was more human than hyena and that made it harder to accept the hyena - it still seemed an act of self-castigation to repress the beast. "It'll tear him apart, trying to keep it at bay," he said finally, and Oz sighed.

"But it's what he wants. Listen, Spike. I understand why you hunt the soldiers. I - won't. That's not what I'm about and it's not.... I can't inflict what I...remember...on anyone. You can. _I_ rule the wolf - when I'm well enough." Oz frowned for a moment and then shook it off. "Xander wants to have control over the hyena. He did things - the first time it happened - that frightened him. He doesn't want those...impulses...to be _him_ , you know? He doesn't want to be capable of what the hyena's capable of."

"He is, though. He'd never have done if he wasn't. Can't _make_ a dog hunt - it has to want to. And he wants to. _Needs_ to, maybe."

"Maybe. But he doesn't _want_ to want it, and he's going to fight it."

 _*More fool him, then. But he can't fight the beast in him **and** the one in me.*_ Spike had to smile to himself at that thought, because it was true. Xander wouldn't be able to resist the beast if Spike bent all his attention to teasing it out. And that was exactly what he intended to do. Oz reached out and put his hand on Spike's ankle where it rested on the couch, circling the slim column of bone and muscle with his fingers, stroking the knob of bone with his thumb. Spike sighed a little, smiling, and Oz smiled back. They'd longed for touch, down in the cells - made do with words instead - words that caressed like lovers hands.

 _"You, love, and I... (he whispers) you and I...and if no more than only you and I...what care you or I?"_  
and  
_"It is time for us to kiss the earth again...it is time to let the leaves rain from the skies...let the rich life run to the roots again…."_  
and  
_"He locked the door behind us, and then for a moment, in the gloom, we simply stared at each other - with dismay, with relief, and breathing hard. I was trembling. I thought, if I do not open the door at once and get out of here, I am lost. But I knew I could not open the door, I knew it was too late: soon it was too late to do anything but moan. He pulled me against him, putting himself into my arms as though he were giving me himself to carry, and slowly pulled me down with him to that bed. With everything in me screaming No! yet the sum of me sighed Yes."_  
and  
_"So, when I am in a voluptuous vein...I pillow my head on the sweets of the rose...and list to the tale of the wreath and the chain...til its echoes depart...then I sink to repose…."_

Spike let the small warmth of Oz's hand sink into his bones. This was all he'd wanted, in the cell. This was...enough. "Tell me how it happened, then. Where'd this hyena come from?" he asked after a while, when he heard the shower finally turn off. He drained the last of the whiskey and put the bottle on the coffee table.

"Oh, years ago. Some keeper at the Zoo, he'd heard about these cults in Africa. How they invited the spirit of the hyena into them. He wanted to do it, so he set it up and - Xander and some other guys from school, they walked into it. Got possessed for...a week, I guess." Oz scooted down on the wide, soft cushions of the couch and Spike twisted himself onto his side, bending his legs so Oz could lean back against his thighs. Oz pulled a pillow out from behind Spike's back and tucked it between his head and Spike's hip. Spike liked being curled around the werewolf like that - like he was keeping him safe, and he pulled his own pillow free and put it on Oz's thighs - rested his head there.

"He attacked Buffy while he was possessed. Hurt her pretty bad, considering she was the Slayer." Spike lifted an eyebrow at that, and Oz shrugged. "She didn't want to hurt _him_ , and he didn't have any real control, then. So - it was bad."

"Tried to kill a Slayer, huh?" Spike mused, and Oz shook his head.

"No - the pack wanted a - leader. Hyenas are matriarchal, and they needed a strong female to lead the pack. The one that got possessed with them - she wasn't leader material, so Buffy was the next logical choice. Strongest female around. He.... Well, he tried to rape her." Oz tugged at the blanket, trying to get it higher and Spike came up on one elbow and helped him, smoothing it over the werewolf's chest. He cupped Oz's cheek in his palm for a moment and Oz pushed into his touch, closing his eyes. After a moment Spike leaned back, burrowing into the pillow, and Oz opened his eyes.

"The pack - they killed a few people. Attacked Willow - Xander's best friend - attacked Giles, the Watcher?" Spike nodded, remembering. The Watcher tied to the chair in the mansion, writhing under Angelus' cruel, deft touch, and Drusilla's crueler illusion. And the witchling, yelling at him about 'taking' and 'spells', defiance in the face of his drunken savagery and Spike had admired that, that she had that much courage.

"I remember," Spike murmured, and Oz nodded.

"Yeah. Anyway - when it was gone, Xander said he couldn't remember what he'd done. We told him some of it. But later - the summer after Buffy killed Angel and ran away - he told me he remembered it all. He was - he wanted to know if I remembered what I did when I was the wolf." Oz hand came out from under the blanket and wormed its way under the thin, soft sweater Spike had changed into. He curled his fingers over Spike's ribs and stroked slowly, up and back. Spike sighed happily and closed his eyes.

" _Do_ you, then?"

"I - do, and I don't. It's very...dreamlike. It's easy to distance myself from it. But if I really concentrate, I can be there with it. If I want to be. Xander didn't have any control at all, when it first happened. He was - like a passenger in an out-of-control car, or something. It really scared him. Mostly 'cause - he said - he _liked_ some of it."

"What part?" Spike _had_ to ask, and Oz went still - moved, just a little and Spike opened his eyes. Oz had lifted his head a little and was looking over the back of the couch and Xander was standing there, his wet hair ruffled from being toweled off and his skin flushed still from the shower. He was pulling on another hoodie - dark green - over a black t-shirt and an old pair of faded black sweats. He'd left the hoodie unzipped but shoved his hands into the pockets, shoulders hunching and his head going down.

"Having a nice chat?" he said, and Oz shifted a little.

"Telling him about the hyena, is all. You okay?"

"No," Xander said, and went over to the kitchen - got a bottle of juice out and drank, long swallows without benefit of a glass or a breath. Then he stood there a moment, and Spike could smell the sorrow and anger coming off him. But the honey-thick musk that Spike was realizing was the hyena was there, as well, and he took a deep breath, watching the boy's shoulders tense and flex - watching him put the juice away and then come slowly back to the couch, his eyes wide and lost-looking.

"Wanna know what I liked?" Xander said, and Spike looked up at him and nodded, arching his back a little at the slow stroking along his ribs that Oz hadn't stopped. Xander saw it and his eyes narrowed - _anger_ coming off him - and Spike smirked a little. "I liked not having any second thoughts. Not having much in the way of thoughts at all. For the first time in...forever...I wasn't scared of anything. And I had a family. A _real_ one." Xander's hands were back in his pockets - his shoulders were rounding down even further and Spike wanted to taste him - wanted to taste the loss and need that was in his voice - wanted to taste the longing.

"How'd you get it back? What happened?"

Xander shrugged - looked at Oz, whose eyes were half-closed, his breathing settling towards sleep, or at least towards rest. "When we took out that Adam - when we got Oz out. We did a spell. All of us combined our...spirits, I guess? We were all - in Buffy. In her mind or...something. Helped her take Adam out. And it - it was like I could see all of myself and the hyena was still there. All locked up, all, chained down. I could _see_ it in there...in the dark, all alone...." Xander shivered all over, and he looked at Spike's hand, where it lay possessively on Oz's stomach. Something in his eyes, and Spike knew how to reel him in. _Knew_ it, and almost laughed aloud.

"And you just - let it out?" Spike asked, and Xander nodded. He looked up at Spike's face - looked away, and made as if to turn, heading towards the bed. "C'mere, rabbit," Spike said softly, and Xander twitched a little. Hesitated, taking in long, shaky breaths. Then he came slowly around the end of the couch and stood there. "Come sit down," Spike murmured, and reached out and tugged on the edge of Xander's hoodie.

The boy hesitated again and then he pulled his hands out of his pockets and folded down to his knees and then shifted, his back against the couch, cross-legged on the thick wool rug there. Spike let him settle and then he reached out and touched the silky hair. Xander flinched and Spike smiled, hidden in the pillow. He stroked softly, threading his fingers through and through the long strands - scratching his nails lightly over the scalp and tugging gently - rubbing the thin skin behind the boy's ears, rubbing at the base of his skull but mostly just petting that heavy, wonderful hair. Oz's breathing had settled into the slow rhythm of sleep and he sighed a little, his hand still lying over Spike's ribs. Xander sighed, too - relaxed, finally, his head falling back and resting against Oz, his eyes closing as he pushed into the slow strokes of Spike's hand.

 _*Poor little rabbit. I know what you need. Taken in hand, kept safe...kept close.*_ Spike grinned into the pillow, watching Xander. "You rest now, rabbit," he whispered, curling the hair around his fingers, cocooned himself in the scents of wolf and boy. "You rest, and we'll see what we can see tomorrow. Gonna love being mine, rabbit."

 

 

 

 

_________________________________________________  
Quotes are, in order:  
Rudyard Kipling - _Rikki-Tikki-Tavi (The Jungle Books)_  
Rudyard Kipling - _Tiger! Tiger! (The Jungle Books)_  
Maxine Kumin - _The Hermit Prays (Up Country)_  
Robert Graves - _Counting the Beats_  
Robinson Jeffers - _Return_  
James Baldwin - _Giovanni's Room_  
John Keats - _On Receiving a Curious Shell_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember the warnings. Mental manipulation, non- and dub-con here, as well as a graphic depiction of torture and of PTSD.

Sometime before noon Spike woke and watched through half-slitted eyes as Oz sat up and reached with a shaking hand to the small box on the coffee table. Pushed up his sleeve and laboriously wound a length of rubber tubing around his bicep - uncapped the thin syringe that lay waiting. Then he slid the needle into the vein, and pushed the morphine in after. As Spike watched the shaking faded away and Oz clumsily got syringe and tubing back into the box then wormed his way into the corner of the couch, out before he'd taken five breaths. Spike snugged the blanket up around the werewolf and turned over. 

Xander had slid sideways and was curled on the floor, his back pressed into the couch, his hair over his eyes. Spike watched him for a minute - watched him twitch, watched his hand claw at the rug. Then he was still again and Spike closed his eyes, settling into sleep once more.

The next time he woke it was with a jolt, his breath panting in and out. Soft cries - moans - and he jerked upright, looking at Oz. The werewolf slept on, still drugged, almost unmoving. Blearily he looked over the side of the couch and straight into the hyena's eyes. The boy's lips were drawn back in a snarl, and he surged upward, growling, his head connecting solidly with Spike's mouth. Spike yelled in surprise, feeling his lips split and his teeth cut deep on the inside. Then Xander was struggling up and away.

 _* **Bloody** hell, what the fuck is he doing?*_ "Rabbit -" Spike growled, lunging after him but Xander scrabbled away, not quite able to get to his feet but plunging and falling and kicking, heading for - for Spike's bed, it seemed, or the bookshelves there - something. Spike slithered to the floor, cursing.

He watched Xander careen across the floor, his bare feet skidding on the rugs that were scattered around, his body pumping _fear fear fear_ with every heartbeat. He crashed into the far wall and spun around, at bay, half crouched and blood on _his_ face now where the rough brick had torn it. On his face, on his knuckles, and his eyes wide and green-glowing, utterly lost. 

"Xander..." Spike licked his lips, lapping at the blood, then straightened and walked slowly towards him and Xander saw him, maybe, or maybe didn't. It was hard to say.

"Get the fuck _off_ me, get away from me - I _won't_ , bastards, murdering bastards -" Xander lunged, snarling, thudding solidly into Spike's chest and Spike wrapped his arms around him and _squeezed_ , trying to still him. Xander thrashed, clawing and kicking - snaked his head forward and _bit_ , sinking his blunt teeth through the sweater and into the top of Spike's shoulder, tearing flesh as he tried to get away and Spike roared. He got his hands between them and pushed Xander away _hard_ , the human's teeth tearing out through his flesh, sending a bolt of hot agony all through him. Xander crashed to the floor, spitting out sweater and maybe some Spike and immediately he was crouching, moving - snagging an axe that Spike had left propped against a bookshelf and swinging it in wild, vicious arcs.

" _Won't_ , you fucks, you miserable - don't care if you die, don't care if _I_ \- back _off!_ " He stood still finally, his legs braced wide and his chest heaving, sweat and blood and possibly tears on his face, running down. Fear-scent thick and rank, rage and misery and the musk of the other like sweetest honey. He was looking around him - looking with wide, green eyes and Spike watched him, waiting. Darted in when he blinked and wobbled, just a little, and snatched the axe away - sent it spinning across the floor to slide half under the couch. Xander snarled again, drawing back, and Spike backhanded him. 

He went down in a heap, graceless and hard and Spike crouched over him, blood trailing down his chest and arm under the torn sweater, blood filling his mouth. Xander just lay there awkwardly, half on his front, his face pressed into a small wool rug, his hands uselessly opening and closing. He gasped for air - panted and coughed and then he was crying. Nearly silent, shaking hard, only his labored, choked breathing making any sound. Spike watched him.

 _*Fuckin' nightmare. Guess we've all got 'em. But damn, he can hit **hard** , when he wants. Wonder if he's awake yet? Poor little rabbit. Have to wear him out, before he goes to sleep next time.*_ Spike reached out slowly and pushed Xander's hair back off his face.

"You in there, rabbit? Hey, you awake?" Xander flinched sharply away - pushed himself halfway upright and then froze, staring. He blinked - sniffed - and the hyena retreated, leaving the boy shivering. He lifted his arm and wiped his face - winced when the sleeve dragged over the bleeding scrapes he'd gotten on his cheekbone and jaw.

"What…." he said, dazed monotone, and then blinked again - lifted his head. "Spike...?" 

"That's right, pet. Spike. You awake now?"

"I wasn't -" Xander stopped and sniffed again - pushed himself up a little further so he was sitting on his arse, knees bent up. "There was.... Why are you bleeding?"

Spike licked his lips again - swallowed the blood in his mouth and shrugged a little, wincing. "You hit me. _Bit_ me, for fuck's sake. You always dream like that?"

"Only when I torture a total s-stranger to death." Xander ran his hands back through his hair, grimacing, and then locked his right hand around his left wrist, elbows around his knees. "Is Oz okay?" 

"Wolf is fine. He had a shot." Spike reached out and touched the welling blood on Xander's cheek - brought his fingertips to his mouth and sucked the blood off. Fear, pain, hate, sorrow. Like arsenic and sugar and Spike felt a little shiver of anticipation go over him. He lifted his head, flaring his nostrils and sniffing.

"You stink, pet. Need a shower." He stood up and held out his hand and after a moment Xander took it - was lifted to his feet and stood there, getting his bearings. Spike stepped up close, letting his hand slide down and around to Xander's back - creeping up under the t-shirt and hoodie to stroke the hot, sweat-slick flesh. Xander's skin shivered, like a horse throwing off a fly but he didn't move away, just rubbed at his eyes, smearing the last of the tears off his cheeks. Spike let his other hand drop to the top of Xander's thigh, kneading the tense muscles through the loose sweatpants.

"You didn't mind the torture before, rabbit," Spike said, and Xander looked at him, drawing back slightly.

"That wasn't me," he said softly, and Spike raised an eyebrow, smirking.

"Course it was, rabbit. Was _all_ you." Xander shook his head, stepping away and Spike followed, his arm going around Xander's waist now, and curling into his inner thigh, stopping him.

"It was the hyena. It...wants that. Wants blood."

"So do you, sweet," Spike murmured, nuzzling into the fragrant heat of Xander's neck - rubbing his face in the silky hair, feeling Xander's thigh trembling under his hand.

"No -" Xander whispered, and jerked hard - tried to twist away, his hands pushing at Spike's chest but Spike held him easily. His right hand was around Xander's ribs now, and he slid the left one higher, sinking his fingers into the warm space between groin and thigh, feeling the tendon there that quivered with strain, and the weight of Xander's scrotum, brushing against the back of his hand.

" _You_ let the hyena back out, pet. _You_ took the chains off and let it free. You wanted it back - wanted it _all_ back. No thoughts, no remorse, no guilt." Spike moved teeth and tongue and lips along the line of Xander's jaw - up to his mouth and flicked his tongue along Xander's lips. He could feel the boy's breath, panting out in little gasps and he wound himself around the boy, chest to chest and groin to groin and Xander was hard, was shivering and his hands were on Spike's hips, light as leaves. Spike groaned softly down in his chest and kissed him, long and deep, tasting traces of juice and blood, tasting honey-sweet and bitter.

 _*Tastes good. Little rabbit, you're so close....*_ Xander was kissing him back - was letting his hands clutch at Spike's hips and run up under the sweater, skittering over his back. And then he pushed away, backing away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and staring at Spike with eyes black and empty as a dry well.

"I let it out but, I didn't want...." He shook his head and took a step away from Spike and then another and Spike followed, padding after him. "Look, I wanted...family. I wanted _that_. But - nobody was - the hyena didn't _want_ any of them. Didn't want W-willow or Giles or Tara...didn't want Riley or even Buffy, anymore. Nobody was _pack_ and -" He stopped again, rubbing his hand tentatively over his face and wincing - turning and going distractedly towards the bathroom. Spike walked right behind him, his fingers on Xander's back and Xander glanced over his shoulder, flicker of the other there and then gone.

"Poor little rabbit - all alone. That's too bad."

Xander stopped at the doorway to the bathroom and turned around, leaning on the door. Hyena definitely there in the narrowed eyes and lift of lip. "I'm _not_. Oz is pack. He's - we're a pack. That's why -" 

Spike put both hands on the door and leaned over the boy, letting the demon out so he could snuffle over the hair and skin - suck up blood and sweat and musk smell through his mouth so that it soaked into him, thick enough to taste. And there was something there...something…. "Why, pet!" Spike said, eyes going wide, grinning in malicious delight. " _We're_ pack too, aren't we?"

Xander looked away, shaking his head, his mouth coming open but no sound coming out and Spike closed his eyes and scented again, letting the demon sift through the complicated signals that chemistry was sending out. The senses that could track blood over miles and days, that could separate from a crowd the vampire that made you and the _other_ vampires that that one had made, picked apart the rage and the longing and the lust - the loneliness and the _need_ and it was a heady, heady brew. _Submission_ was there, complicated by the human's stubbornness and the hyena's confusion at a demon so different from itself. There was push and pull, yes and no, all wrapped up in desire and desperation and Spike leaned into the boy and rubbed his face along the human one - rubbed through the blood and the sweat and the drying tears like a cat will. Xander twisted under him, pushing at him and growling just a little and Spike opened his eyes.

"Don't fight me, rabbit. You feel it. It's right _there_ in you - right in your belly and your cock and your head. Can't fight me and win, _ever_. 'Cause you _want_ to be mine - want to be part of my...pack."

Xander stared at him, the mad glare of the cornered animal and when he spoke it was with an effort, the hyena struggling with the words the human ground out. "Got Oz. Don't need -"

"You _do_ need. I can smell it on you, rabbit - smells _so_ good…."

An inarticulate sound of rage and Xander was slamming both hands into Spike's chest, knocking him back, fists pounding into him and Spike snarled into Xander's face - lunged at him and backed him up hard into the bathroom door, making the wood pop and driving Xander's breath out of him with a whine of pain. Spike shredded the t-shirt and hoodie away from his neck - half off him - and sank his fangs straight in, just holding him there and not moving, not taking the blood that welled up. Knowing that that _hurt_ , that that was like red-hot little knives in the boy's throat.

 _*Fight this, rabbit - go ahead. Twist and yowl under me, and beg me, and then we'll see....*_ Xander _did_ fight - clumsy swipes at Spike until the vampire caught the flailing hands and pinned them to the door, grinding wrist bones together until they creaked. Kicked at him until Spike simply got one thigh between Xander's and ground down, painful pressure on hipbones and on his still-hard cock. Xander bucked up into him, last desperate attempt and then went limp, gasping. A whimper of pain was building in his chest - in his throat - and Spike shook his head a little, making Xander cry out.

" _Don't_ \- Spike don't, f-fuck, hurts, _hurts_ \- " A strangled whisper and Spike shook his head again - took a good, hard pull of the blood and it spangled across his tongue; magic and otherness, _please_ and _no_ , as strong as whiskey and as sweet as honey-wine. And Xander cried out again, but this time in pleasure.

"Feels _good_ , too," Spike said, drawing back and licking his lips - looking at the dazed human who was sagging in his arms. Letting the demon-face slide away. "Do as I say, rabbit, and it'll mostly _always_ feel good." Xander leaned his head into Spike's chest, shuddering, his hips moving without thought against Spike's thigh and Spike finally let go his hold on the thin wrists.

"Get in the shower, pet. Need to get clean. And you still get a reward, do you remember? For being so good with the soldier, you get something nice." Spike opened the bathroom door and caught the boy as he stumbled backwards - pushed him against the wall and got the water going.

 _*Has to want this. He **will** want this....*_ Spike didn't, as a rule, care to rape his partners - willing was much more fun. Not that he _hadn't_ raped, from time to time - or had it done to him, once or twice. But he had the feeling that the wolf wouldn't like it if he forced the boy, even to just get him over the initial denial. He had to make the boy think he was _giving_ it - that he could say no if he really wanted. Then the wolf would have no objections. Spike stripped the clothes off Xander in a few easy moves, and the boy just stood there against the wall, shivering and snarling a little, rubbing his wrists and occasionally letting his hand flutter down to stroke over his cock.

 _*Must ache, being that hard.... Like I ache - fuck, I want him....*_ Spike slid easily out of his own clothes and then stepped into the shower - tugged the boy in with him and pushed him under the spray. Xander gasped a little at the temperature and then lifted his face, turning it and drinking a mouthful, bowing his head so the water pushed his hair over his face and plastered it to his skull, sleek as an otter. 

"Pretty thing...." Spike purred, stroking his hands over Xander's chest, scooting him out from under the spray a little. The boy was thin, but muscled. He looked like nothing so much as some street-dog, all whipcord muscle and long bones, tendons stark in the backs of his hands and his ribs showing with each deep breath he took. Old scars twisted over him: ribs and belly, down his left thigh, right shoulder and pectoral. Spike filled his hands with gel soap and started to rub it into the pale-suede skin, delighting in the slippery feel and the heat, in the tremors that wracked the boy when he used blunt nails and strong fingers to tease hipbones and inner thigh, nipples and the small of his back.

Xander turned, arching his back, his forearms on the shower wall, pillowing his head. More scars here, on his back - these a little too regular to be from a fight, but old, very old. Spike spent extra time over them, rolling his knuckles over and over the raised flesh and Xander mewled softly, pushing back into him.

"Who hurt you, pet? Where did you get these?" Spike let his hands slide down over the tense buttocks and kneaded - rubbing and pulling, letting his fingers slip deeper and lower with every passing minute. Xander was breathing in long, shaky sighs by the time his soap-slippery index finger pushed slowly into the tight ring of muscle there.

"Rabbit," Spike said, leaning his forehead on Xander's back, "what are these scars?"

"Ssswitch. Got switched when I was twelve. D-dad was drunk an' I pissed him off.... Spike, I -"

"Mmmm? What'd you do, rabbit?" Spike twisted his finger, rubbing the satin-smooth, rippling flesh that clung and flexed around him. His other hand was on Xander's belly, stroking softly. Avoiding the hard jut of his cock for the moment.

"Found his stash. His - liquor stash. God, Spike, _please_...." 

"Shhhh.... Don't fret, rabbit. I'll make it nice. Tell me." Xander shifted, spreading his legs - canting his hips back and arching his throat, panting. He whimpered again, and Spike kissed the side of his neck.

 _*Fuck. That's so fucking hot. Like he'll die if he doesn't get it.... Sweet rabbit, pretty little thing, just there, yeah? Fuck yeah….*_ Spike pushed deeper and then slid in a second finger, pressing and rubbing, watching Xander's legs tremble and his hands curl into fists.

"What'd you do with his liquor, then?" Spike breathed. He slid his other hand around, from stomach to hip to buttock, pulling the boy open wide and pushing the tip of his cock up against his fingers. He pulled - opened - and slid in, pulling his fingers slowly out at the same time and Xander groaned harshly, leaning back into him, biting at his forearm. Spike pushed, steady and straight until he was _in_ , fully in, squeezed by warm flesh and he froze. Xander was shivering and gasping - rocking back and Spike held his hips, caressing the arch of bone, the well of soft skin just beneath.

"Why'd he switch you?" Spike whispered, and moved, just a little.

"I - I d-dumped it all down the sink, I though...he'd stop...." A gasp, a whimper as Spike moved again, tilting his hips so he could find the sweet spot and press, press.

" _Oh_ fuck, fuck -" Xander reared back hard, his head coming up off his arms and his hands scrabbling, clawing a the slick tiles. Spike gave him three, four, five deep thrusts and then stopped again - pulled the boy close and held him immobile, that delicious trembling heat plastered to his chest, clove and mint and honey-musk scent filling his nostrils.

"Foolish little rabbit. Should have let it be. Now you're all marked. We'll fix that, though." Spike nibbled at an earlobe - the point of his jaw - kissed his way down the arch of Xander's throat and bit lightly at the muscle on the top of his shoulder. "Easy fix, that. Put _my_ mark on you. Then the other ones - they don't count anymore."

"Can't make 'em go away, Spike, can't -"

"No, I can't. But I can make them stop mattering." Spike let the demon come - let the fangs prickle over the sweet flesh and let them rest and then pierce and Xander stiffened in his hold - clutched frantically at Spike's soapy arms and hip. Let his head fall back on Spike's shoulder and let Spike hold him - direct him. Spike waited as long as he could, sipping the blood in tiny mouthfuls and then he _couldn't_ wait and he started to thrust. Let go of Xander's throat with his fangs and licked over the beading blood and swelling skin - pushed him forward, finally, bending him and sinking his fingers into the boy's lean hips and just _taking_ him, fucking him, raking his nails down the faintly textured skin of his back and gathering a handful of wet hair to pull and twist. 

Xander just let him - just pushed back and braced himself and made a harsh little cry every time Spike hit the right spot. He reached between his own legs, roughly stroking himself and when Spike added his own hand he arched and came, silent, teeth gritted shut. Spike inhaled the new scent, tang of metal and the sea and crushed Xander to him as his own body's rhythm went ragged and frantic. The dying twitches of orgasm made him shiver and Spike leaned over Xander's bowed back and hugged him close - licked over the bite marks on either side of his neck and rubbed his hands over and over the hitching chest and belly, stroking and soothing.

"Rabbit, sweet little rabbit, that was so good, that was so nice, so pretty when you do that, good little rabbit...." Spike crooned in his ear, kissing temple and cheek and Xander took a sharp breath and his hands clawed for a moment at Spike's.

"Don't call me that, you _fuck_ , just - let me go -" The hyena's scent was fading and Spike grinned into Xander's hair and moved his hips a little, pressing in and then sliding slowly out and Xander hissed and twisted away from him - turned and ducked the shower-spray, squinting his eyes.

"Regrets already, pet?" Spike asked, smirking, getting more soap and leisurely washing himself. He scrubbed shampoo through his hair and after a moment Xander shakily started doing the same. Spike let the hot, pounding water wash him clean - stepped aside so that Xander could rinse and then put his hands up in Xander's hair, lifting and combing it, letting the water sluice the soap away. Xander twitched at his touch - tried to edge away and Spike gave a quick, hard yank.

"Stand still, rabbit. Don't want to be all soapy."

" _Stop it_ , Spike! I'm not - not _yours_ , not - this doesn't mean a fucking _thing_ , it's -" 

Spike stopped him with a hard, pinching grip on his neck, digging his nails in and pushing him into the wall - grinding his hips into Xander's ass. "It means everything, pet. Means your _want_ is stronger than you are - means the beast in you _needs_ and you can't stop it. I've got your blood in me - I've got your taste and your scent in me and you've got _mine_ , in you." Another hard push of hips - hard hand on the boy's jaw and in his hair still, turning his head so Spike can kiss his mouth - bite with human teeth. "Wolf'll know, the minute you walk out there. Every vamp at the club will. Wear it like a fucking badge of honor or like a scarlet letter, I don't _give_ a fuck, but you can't take it back, sweet, can't undo it. Little rabbit -" Spike let him go - let him twist around on the tile and glare, mouth red and sore looking, hands clenched into fists.

"Fuck you. _Have it_. Have the fucking 'beast' - maybe it'll leave me alone! Let it out but it just wants _more_ , it just wants -" Xander slammed his fist abruptly into the wall - into _Spike_ when the vampire reached out and tried to take his wrist. Spike snarled and snapped his teeth and Xander recoiled. "It wants you and it _wants_ the blood but _I_ don't. I _don't_."

"Oh, pet. Think that matters? There won't be enough of you left, by and by, to care." Spike shut the water off and stepped out - grabbed a towel and dried himself and left Xander there, hunched and furious and shivering. 

_*Couple more hours' sleep - hot meal - and we'll see what Viv has for him to do.*_ Spike curled himself into his bed, smiling, running his hands over his body and arching like a cat as he replayed the feel of the boy under him and around him. _*That was so good - that was just right. Teach it to heel, teach it to eat from my hand. It wants it more than he **doesn't** want it...wants so much….*_ Xander's blood was like a live thing in him, warming him from the inside out and shivering his skin and he sighed in contentment, drifting off, listening and then not listening to the muttering, disjointed drone of the boy's voice as he tried to talk himself to sleep.

 

Waking up was becoming awfully interesting lately and Spike lay in his bed, eyes closed. He could smell soap and water and blood and he slowly turned his head - opened his eyes. The wolf was sitting up on the kitchen counter, fresh from the bathroom, his hair spiked damply over his head and his skin palely flushed. His jaw was bleeding. Xander was in front of him, between his knees, going through a small first-aid kit, old blue work-shirt unbuttoned and hanging open over ratty jeans, chest bare. He tore open a packet of gauze and then opened a bottle and the sharp, astringent smell of witch hazel filled Spike's nostrils.

"I _told_ you I'd help you, Oz. You're gonna slice open your fucking throat," Xander said softly, wetting the gauze with witch hazel and then holding it to the werewolf's face. A healthy werewolf would have healed such a small cut in a few hours. Oz - just couldn't.

"Sick of...being sick. Just wanted to shave," Oz muttered, looking unhappily down at his hands, and Xander put his other hand to Oz's cheek - lifted the narrow, pointed face up until they were looking eye to eye.

"It's not your fault you're sick, Oz, and you _know_ I'd help you. Fuck, at least let me get you some disposable razors! Don't use that cut-throat thing of Spike's anymore, okay?" Spike watched Xander wipe the blood away - carefully apply a band-aid and smooth the tabs. Then Xander's hands were on the werewolf's face again, cupping softly, and he felt a little twist in his belly at that. Jealousy, maybe, or anger.

 _*For who? At who? The rabbit's mine...the wolf.... Is nobody's. What's the boy playing at, then?*_ Spike inhaled deeply, scenting what he could over the medicinal smells and the fresh soap smells. _Want_ and sorrow, and submission again, but the wolf didn't want it - wouldn't take it. Spike felt himself grinning and curled into the pillow a bit more. This end of the flat was dim - there were only a couple lamps lit, and the two spots in the kitchen. He was hidden, if he kept still.

"Oz -"

"What did...he do, Xander? What did _you_ do? I can.... He's all over you, Xander," Oz said, and his eyes were dark - sad.

Xander's thumbs brushed lightly over Oz's cheekbones, his fingertips curved around the werewolf's skull and ruffling the streaky hair, all rust and amber and blood. "I - had a nightmare. Bad one. Because of....you know why." Flush of blood - shame and anger - and Oz's thin hand squeezed Xander's bicep and then rested there, just holding.

"I guess - you couldn't wake me?"

"Spike said you'd had a shot. You didn't - hear us. I attacked him and he knocked me down and...." Xander stopped again, his voice cracking, and he leaned slowly forward until his forehead was resting on Oz's shoulder, and his hands slipped down to loosely circle his waist, twisting a little in the too-large thermal shirt Oz wore. When he spoke, his voice was a whisper.

"It's not supposed to _be_ like this, Oz, it's not supposed to be.... When I was the hyena before, I _knew_ what it wanted. It wanted a _pack_ , it wanted...family. And I almost had it. And...then they locked it up and…. I was so fucking _lonely_ , Oz...it hurt so much...." Xander's voice wobbled to silence and he breathed into Oz's shoulder, hitching breaths and the smell of tears. Spike felt the growl in his chest and stifled it.

_* **My** rabbit. Teach it come to **me** when it hurts….*_

"It wants...blood now, Oz, it wants things I.... Please, Oz, please, can't you just - can't you be with me? _Please?_ You're the only - one - it wants, you're - you're the only f-family -" Xander was crying, but trying to be calm - trying to just _talk_ , and Spike could see the misery in Oz's eyes - could see the tears glittering there, unshed.

"You know I can't Xander. I'm not - I'm not going to...." Oz shut his eyes for a moment, his own hands creeping up slowly and pulling Xander in for a long, hard, hug that Xander returned desperately. Finally Oz eased away, stroking his fingertips over Xander's face, wiping away tears.

"I'm going north, when this thing is out of me. I'm - going to be the wolf for as long as it takes and I can't - can't take you, Xander, I can't - do that to you."

"Why _not?_ We'd do fine!" Xander cried, and Spike could hear the child he still was, deep down - the desperate, lonely child who's heart had pounded out _please please please_ when Spike had hesitated over taking him or taking Angelus down.

_*Would have been glorious I'll bet, him turned. But this is better, this beast. Like it when he slips his human skin...makes it so much sweeter to have what's hidden from the rest of the world….*_

"We'd - we could have our own family there, we could - find a mate and -"

" _No_ , we couldn't. It won't _work_ , Xander, you know it won't, Giles said -" Xander wrenched himself away with a snarl and Spike saw the hyena there - smelled it, and wanted to whistle it to him; wanted to bite its silken skin and take it again, hard and fast. He rubbed the flat of his hand down his belly to his cock and let his fingers caress, shivery-slick, over the erect, weeping head.

 _*God, he's lovely.... Why won't you take him, wolf?*_ Spike let his fingers trail off and away, belly rippling with tension. _*Later for that. Want it to be with my pretty rabbit again….*_

" _Giles_ doesn't know everything, Oz!" Xander paced back and forth, from counter to couch, fists clenched, his shirt flapping. "He thought he got _rid_ of it, but he didn't! He told me - the spell for Buffy would be fine but it - it just fucked me up - fucked us _all_ up. All those things we _never_ should have known - never should have seen...." He stopped, fists cracking down on the counter on either side of Oz's thighs, snarling face right _there_ , but the wolf didn't flinch.

"It's eating me _alive_ , Oz! It let Spike - it _wanted_ Spike to fuck me - to _bite_ me! _**Us**_. It wanted to just - let him have everything!" His voice had dropped, hoarse and low, honey-sweet of the hyena and desperation, so strong. " _Everything_. My body, my blood - my fucking _soul_ , Oz! I don't want to be _his_ , I want to be yours, be the wolf with you - _please!_ "

" _ **No**!_ " Oz's voice was a vicious whisper and Xander recoiled just slightly, green-eyed, snarling. "The hyena doesn't want a soulmate, Xander! It wants a fucking lord and master and it wants _blood_ and _you know it_. You know it." _Oz's_ eyes were strange now - glittering black, shark's eyes without any whites and Spike felt his own demon rising to that - felt the shift and fought it, not wanting to alert the others. Wanting to _know_. 

"It got away from you the first week you had it back and you didn't _care_ and you still don't, down inside." Oz's hands were clenched tight on his knees - he was trembling all over and sweating and Spike realized abruptly that even that tiny shift was causing him pain - that the fucking hardware in his head was punishing him. Spike _did_ growl then, catching the fear and hate and misery, the anger and the _pain_ scents that rolled off the wolf. Neither one heard him - reacted at all.

"Yes I _do_ care -"

"You _don't!_ You don't give a fuck any more than _I_ do, Xander, just admit it!" Finally, his voice went to a shout and Xander just stood there, staring at him. Oz shut his eyes, shaking all over, his lips moving in silent words and Spike knew, knew.... Searching for that space, searching for calm. Xander took a tentative step towards him - lifted his hand and then let it fall, and after a minute Oz looked at him again, human eyes, the wolf pushed down and away so thoroughly even its scent faded.

"You think I don't fight every _minute_ , Xander?" Oz grated out, teeth clenched. "You think I don't struggle every _day_? Surrounded by all these fucking _humans_ , think they own the world - think they're the _top_ of the chain? Fucking soldiers, fucking _doctors_ \- they think I'm an animal and I _am_ , but I'm the animal that can _think_ , just like they can, and if I let go, Xander…." Oz lifted his head, baring his teeth in something like grin, and Spike's demon snarled to the surface. Oz's eyes flicked over him and then back to Xander and Spike knew _he_ knew, and wasn't going to say.

"I'd make my own pack, Xander - hunt the fucking streets and take what I wanted and _bite_ and I could have a pack a hundred-thousand strong, Xander - take all the north for ourselves…." Oz stopped, shuddering, staring wide-eyed at nothing - at a future he refused to realize. Xander finally stepped in close to him again, head to the side, baring his throat; being the weaker one. Nuzzling into Oz's neck, hands on the werewolf's hips and face hidden and Oz slowly relaxed against him - tipped his head over and opened his jaws - let his teeth just rest on the pale skin that pulsed with breath and blood. Xander shuddered, rocking against him, and Oz bit him lightly, so lightly. Then he slowly pushed him away and Xander moved to the side. Put his elbows on the counter and leaned his head into his hands, fingers tight in his own hair, back stiff.

"You won't ever...let me, will you Oz," he murmured, and Oz shook his head, reached out and tugged the collar of Xander's shirt back and ran his fingers over the bite marks Spike had left. Xander took in a hard breath and Spike could smell the arousal, the need - the _hyena_ , all but dying for a place in some pack - for someone that would take him and _keep_ him.

"It would kill you, Xander, or make you...crazy. You know it would. The hyena would fight it every minute. _You_ may offer me your throat but _it_ doesn't - it knows I won't take what it offers and it can't tolerate _not_ being taken. You _know_ this, Xander."

Xander looked sideways at Oz - stood up and wiped his face on his shirtsleeves. "He'll kill me, Oz. He just wants...he can't...love me," Xander whispered, and Oz sighed, tugging the younger man close, hugging him, rubbing his cheek slowly against Xander's hair. He stared at Spike, while his thin hands made slow, gentle patterns over Xander's back.

"You don't know that, Xander. Giles _isn't_ always right, and demons _can_ love. You just have to find the balance, you know? Find your own headspace. You can fight your beast - if you really want to. _You_ can choose. And I'll help you, Xander, okay? I promise I'll help you. I won't let him take anything you don't want to give." The soft green of the werewolf's eyes flashed black for a moment, and the upper lip lifted in a silent snarl, and Spike knew it for what it was - knew it was a warning, and a threat. One he had better be wary of.

Spike leaned up on one elbow and nodded once, acknowledging the message. But he let his _own_ demon do that, because he wanted Oz to _know_ \- there were no pretty masks here, and no half-truths, and he'd fight for what he wanted. 

Oblivious, Xander sighed into Oz's chest and then pulled away - went slowly to the kitchen and started to make some sort of meal. And Spike lay back on the bed.

 

 

"You're _not_ wearing that." Spike stared in dismay at Xander and the boy scowled back, chin going up and fists clenching. Little boy on the playground, ready to take on all comers. 

"Fuck off. I'll wear what I want," Xander muttered, and turned abruptly away. Oz looked over the back of the couch, his eyes hazy from the morphine, and Spike knew this was something he wouldn't fight about.

"Viv wants you at the club, for _what_ , I don't know. But you can't go in there looking like _that_. You look like a scarecrow." Xander shot him a sour look, but his fingers plucked nervously at the hem of the flannel shirt he was wearing - the too-large flannel that hung out from under the hoodie.

"Haven't exactly been following the latest fashions, Spike. It's fucking _cold_ outside! What the hell am I _supposed_ to wear?" There was a lifetime of hurt in that, and Spike remembered the few times he'd seen the boy in Sunnydale. Always in ill-fitting clothes, stuff that looked like castoffs from Oxfam.

 _*Hit a nerve, eh rabbit? Gotta learn to keep that sort of thing hidden better.*_ Although not from _Spike_ , of course - he'd tease out every insecurity and need and obsession the boy had - tie them all up with pretty red ribbons that he could hold and tug on, just a little, whenever he needed to...wanted to.

"Take that mess off and let's find you something of mine. Viv expects her employees to dress sharp. And it's _warm_ in the club, you don't need all that. You'll sweat through it in an hour." Spike moved over to his wardrobe, opening it and eyeing the clothing inside, mentally sorting and discarding. The boy was a little broader across the shoulders and taller, even if no bulkier. Spike poked at this or that shirt, pushing them aside and finally found something at the back. A shirt he'd stripped off a kill just because the color had attracted him - magpie instincts that had more to do with _vampire_ and Dru's need for lining the nest than his own desires. The shirt was a heavy, silky materiel that felt almost like suede and hung heavy in his hands. It was a dark bronze-brown, like tarnished autumn leaves and Spike knew it would make his rabbit's hair gleam like mahogany - make his eyes more gold than brown.

 _*Lovely in this - good enough to eat.*_ Spike smirked to himself. _*Good thing I already **did** or he'd be snatched up the minute he came in the door.*_ He turned, the shirt in his hands, to find Xander standing there in his worn black jeans and vest. The hoodie, flannel, and a ratty thermal shirt were in a pile on the floor.

"That comes off too, pet. White won't go with this. Here -" He turned back and pulled another vest out of a drawer - a black one. White would be too distracting, and Xander was too pale. Xander stared at him for a moment and then pulled his undershirt off, tossing it down as well, and Spike let his gaze wander appreciatively over the whipcorded body.

"Look so lovely, rabbit - did I tell you? Look just lovely." Spike stepped up close, letting the hint of a smile curl his mouth - letting his eyes go half-shut and Xander's head went down - shoulders back a little. Preening unconsciously and Spike almost laughed aloud.

 _*Fuck, he's so good at that - doesn't even know how much he wants it.*_ "Here -" He handed over the vest and Xander pulled it on. It fit snugly, a size too small for his long torso, but there was just enough length to tuck into the waist of his jeans, and the over shirt was long. Spike handed that over as well and Xander's fingers hesitated over the rich, heavy material before he slid it on, shuddering just a bit at its cool touch. He started to button it but Spike reached out and stopped him.

"No, leave it. It looks better like that." Spike looked him up and down, considering. The jeans were a bit faded - a bit frayed around the button-holes and the pockets, but they were black, at least, and fit well. The boots were perfect - work boots that wanted to be motorcycle boots and had heavy steel toes and laced above his ankle. Good for kicking, good for stomping, and actually pretty clean. 

"Right - you'll do. Viv'll give you the final word. It's her standards we're living up to. Now get your coat," he added, grinning when Xander automatically frowned at the order. The boy bent and picked up his discarded clothes, sorting out the thermal and the undershirt and taking them over to the duffle that held his things. He started to pull the flannel on and Spike sighed in frustration.

"Pet - what are you doing? Can't _wear_ that."

Xander turned around fast, snarling, hyena out and ready. "I said, it's _cold_ outside. Maybe you don't feel it but _I_ do, and I'm not gonna walk around freezing to death in this damn thin shirt!" He yanked irritably at the flannel, getting an arm in, and Spike rolled his eyes.

"Fuck, pet - just say, why don't you? Don't have a coat? I've got half a dozen. C'mere."

"Fuck you," Xander muttered, wrestling with the flannel and Spike strode over and yanked it off him - ripped in half for good measure, growling a little himself, now.

"Rabbit, don't talk back to me. Come get a bloody coat!"

"Spike?" Oz's voice, tired-sounding and dull, and they both turned to the werewolf.

"What is it, wolf?" Spike asked, and Xander snarled silently at the vampire, walking over to the couch.

"Just - calm down, okay?" Oz was propped up on pillows, nested in blankets, and his thin face looked ghostly and transparent in the dimness of the flat. 

"He's not listening, wolf," Spike snapped, stalking over, and Xander hunched away from him, scowling.

" _He_ is right here, you fuck. Don't order me around. I'm _not_ your pet." Furious eyes, snarling mouth, but _please please please_ with every heartbeat - with the tilt of his head and the sweet musk of the hyena, who was longing to give in.

 _*Not mine yet, anyway - not quite. Sweet rabbit - kick the cage all you like - run 'til you drop. I'll be right there with your collar and leash....*_ Spike let _that_ pretty image wash over him and Oz and Xander both stiffened, catching the scent of arousal - of _want_.

"Xander - let him give you a coat, huh? It _is_ cold. I don't like you going out in just - shirts. You can't get sick on me, you know? Take whatever's offered, remember? Less work for us." A ghost of a smile - a pleading look - and Xander reached out and stroked his hand over Oz's hair - over his cheek.

"Damnit, Oz...." Xander sighed, giving in. "Yeah, okay. Less work for us. Free's always better." Xander smiled a little, diffident, and Oz smiled back.

 _*Never said anything about free,*_ Spike thought, but he gave the boy a smirk of triumph and led him over to the other wardrobe, the one where his duster lived when he remembered. There were other coats in there - ones he'd taken from kills, ones he'd just stolen because he liked them for an hour or a day. But he always came back to Nikki's coat, in the end.

"Here - pick what you like," Spike said, and watched as Xander poked through the leather and the wool and the one mackintosh that Spike had never worn but taken for sentimental reasons. Eventually he pulled out a heavy wool pea jacket, regular Navy issue. It still smelled very faintly of blood and Spike saw Xander's nose twitch, but he shrugged it on, pushing his hands into the pockets. It was a good fit, and the boy fought a smile - turned to the werewolf.

"This'll do, you think?" he asked, and Oz grinned.

"Yeah. Nice. Those are great - big pockets." Xander grinned back and Spike shut the wardrobe - snagged his own duster from the end of the bed and pulled it on.

"Let's go, then - don't want to be late."

"Mir isn't here yet," Xander objected, and Spike stopped, considering. He was about to reach for the phone when the elevator rumbled, and Spike saw the tension go out of Xander's shoulders - and out of Oz, as well.

"You'll be okay, yeah Oz?" Xander said softly, going to crouch down beside the couch, hand on Oz's blanket-covered knee.

"Yeah, be fine. Just - tired." Oz yawned and snuggled lower, eyes half-lidded and dark with morphine and illness, and Xander gently stroked his hair away from his forehead.

"'Kay. You need anything -"

"I'll call. You take good care of me," Oz mumbled, and Xander smiled, soft and a little shaky. 

"Always do," he whispered, and pushed himself to his feet as Mir knocked on the door. Spike rolled it back and stepped aside to let the demon pass. She came in and heaved her duffle of medical supplies down and nodded to Spike - to Xander. Her whiskers went forward, quivering, and she looked questioningly at Xander.

"Yeah, he - had some. About a half hour ago. He'll be okay." Mir nodded and bobbed her head, sweeping the whiskers back, and Xander sighed and ran his hand back through his hair - darted over to his bag and pulled out the knitted cap and some dark gloves. Half the fingers were out but he pulled them on anyway - snugged the cap down tight over his ears. He transferred a couple other smaller objects to the pockets of the coat and then they left.

They rode the elevator up in silence - sent it back down for Mir to lock. Spike would call her when they wanted back in. Oz had talked him into cell phones so he could stay connected to Wrxl or anyone else and Spike had one of a pair in his inner pocket. Xander had wanted one, too, but Spike had said no, and just grinned at the human's anger.

 _*Gotta learn, rabbit. What I say goes and my rules are the ones we follow, even if they don't make any sense. Sometimes they're just there to piss you off.*_ It was spitting down snow outside - had been for an hour, maybe, if the thin covering over the streets was anything to go by, and the six-o'clock traffic moved slowly, headlights spangling in the darkness, cars skidding at intersections and around corners. Xander took deep breaths, a smile hovering in the corners of his mouth. He looked - pleased - almost happy, and Spike wondered why.

"You like the snow, rabbit?" he asked, and Xander glanced at him, his expression still open - relaxed.

"Yeah. It smells good. And, I dunno, it makes things quieter. It's _cold_ , but... I like it." Spike took a deep breath himself, filling his lungs with the cold tang of the briny Sound, the wet earth and bark smells from the trees that were planted along the sidewalk. Even the wet pavement and concrete smelled clean - smelled like _water_ and not so much like oil and exhaust, and Spike had to admit it _was_ nice. The traffic was there but the tire sounds were muffled, and you could hear the hiss of the damp snow as it skidded over the ground and swirled around corners.

"It is nice," Spike agreed, and Xander looked away, grinning. The hyena scent changed - mellowed; it was happiness and longing and contentment - arousal - and Spike felt his eyebrow going up in surprise.

 _*Never figured it wanted...that. Not as bloody as he'd like, then. Wants to be petted more than scratched. Petting's good, too.*_ Spike lit a cigarette and they walked on, Xander looking up and around at the snow, hands jammed down in his pockets and coat buttoned up tight. Spike let the duster flare around him, enjoying how it felt as it tugged at his shoulders and caressed his legs. A thought struck him, and he looked over at the boy.

"How'd you keep the wolf in junk, before?" he asked, and Xander looked away for a moment - looked back at him.

"You know Silas Trott?"

"Yeeah," Spike said, thinking. He did. Small-time bookie, small-time dealer. Into everything he could worm his way into, crooked as a dog's leg.

"He was running these bare-knuckle fights. I fought for him for a while. Won some, lost some, but he always came through with some money and the stuff for Oz. I figure he made a lot off'a me but - it got Oz what he needed, so...." Xander shrugged, and Spike couldn't help the grin that came over his face.  
Silas's fights were nasty - no rules, no holding back. Once a month he did 'Death Matches', and though few people had ever died he'd got a reputation for that sort of thing, and every wanna-be tough or wise-guy flocked to his fights. Spike considered Xander - his hate and his need - and figured his fights had probably been damn good.

"You lose on cue for him?" Spike asked, and Xander's shoulders hunched a little.

"Sometimes. Always got extra, when I did. It didn't matter - half the guys I fought were on something, or just crazy, you know? Not like the fights were fair, anyway." His tone was casual but his posture screamed shame, and Spike knew he hadn't _wanted_ to throw any fights. But he'd done what he had to do, for the wolf. Spike's respect for the boy ticked up a notch - as did his desire.

"Fighting a junkie or a nutter's a lot worse than a straight guy - the fucked up guy's always unpredictable. Doing something you don't expect. You must be pretty good." _*A little petting for taking that slap, rabbit. I don't care if they were rigged, but I'll remember that you did.*_

"I did all right. It was for Oz, anyway," Xander said, trying and mostly succeeding in masking his pleasure at the compliment. He blinked up at the sky again, tiny crystals of snow caught in his eyelashes and in the long hair that curled out from under the cap.

 _*Oh, can't pass that up,*_ Spike thought, and he stepped forward two fast strides - wheeled and planted himself directly in front of the boy. One hand went around his neck, pulling him close, the other around his back, between his arm and his ribs, pressing the human up tight against him. Xander's mouth was half-open in shock and Spike kissed him hard and slow, leisurely tasting mint and orange juice and honey-sweet; blood, where his poor mouth hadn't healed from down in the tunnels - down with the soldier. After a moment's surprised stiffness Xander pressed eagerly against him, his own arms snaking in under the duster and winding around Spike - his hands digging into Spike's back. Spike got a leg between the boy's - let his hand go lower, to the denim-covered ass and yank Xander closer still, groin to groin, hardness to hardness. Xander was making a soft, crying sound down in his throat - his mouth was soft and open and drawing Spike in - _letting_ him in, letting him take whatever he wanted and Spike growled in delight, threading his hands up into Xander's hair, pushing the cap off and tugging lightly. 

Xander's breath hitched - caught - and he shuddered, grinding closer, his nails digging in; little sparks of sweet fire and Spike wanted to take him right there - push him up against a fucking lamppost or wall and swallow his cock - suck him dry and then fuck him so good he'd get hard again. Wanted him to be hard for Spike all night at the club, stumbling around after Tod or somebody, trying to learn his job while his ass throbbed and his cock begged for more. 

The mental image was too good to ignore. Spike forced Xander back one step and then another and Xander's back connected with the iron cage surrounding the tree-trunk of a winter-stripped birch. Xander gasped, his hands slipping for a moment and then clutching back fiercely and Spike's hand was digging under the pea jacket, looking for the button and zip of the jeans.

There was something - noise, voices - people coming out of one of the old buildings there that had been chopped up into offices and small businesses. Spike could smell oil and sawdust and wood - and figured it was probably someplace that made furniture, or shipped it. He didn't care, though; Xander was whimpering under him, his hips moving helplessly, his hands burrowing under Spike's shirt and scratching tingling furrows down his back even through the few intact fingers of the wool gloves.

_*Fuck, he's fucking lovely, he's so - want him, God -*_

"Jesus Christ! Everywhere you fuckin' go!" Rough voice, snarling, and Spike felt the demon rise. He pulled away from Xander, not wanting to damage his mouth too much.

"Get the fuck outta here, you sick _fucks!_ "

Another voice and Spike let his boy go - saw that his eyes were glittering green in the streetlight and grinned. Xander grinned back. Spike pushed the demon away - it was more fun to spring it on them later - and spun around. Three men, two in their mid-twenties, one a little older. All of them in padded coveralls and caps, gloves and heavy boots. They looked like they'd spent the day hauling shit around. Ugly expressions, eloquent with the desire to do some damage.

 _*Oh, let's dance, shall we?*_ Spike thought, and he stepped towards them, Xander right beside him.

"Fucking faggots," the first man growled, and Xander jerked.

"You got a problem with that?" Spike said, and the man shot a sneering look his way - and then his eyes went wide with surprise as Xander launched himself, silent and _hard_ , straight into him. Right hand flying forward to crunch into the man's nose, left sweeping low, across his belly. The coveralls gaped wide, spilling some sort of insulation and Spike saw the glint of a push-knife sprouting from Xander's left fist. 

The man staggered back, his nose running blood, his mouth open in shock and pain and Xander went for the one on his right, same swift, silent attack. Spike grinned and grabbed the third guy - jerked his head over and drank, fast. As the body tumbled to the snow the second man crashed to the ground, clutching his stomach. There was blood on his hands. The third man staggered, pulling at his companion's shoulder and Xander kicked him in the back of the knee - kicked him again when he sprawled to the ground. 

Spike hauled the second man up, smelling blood and intestines. Xander's knife had cut deep. He sank his fangs in, drinking fast, and the third man, writhing on the ground, saw him and voiced a wavering, bubbling shriek. Xander kicked him hard in the ribs - stepped back, panting lightly, his hands out and up, ready. Then he blinked and _looked_ ; saw the bodies and saw Spike, and his face went blank with shock.

"What d'ya think, rabbit? Kill him, too? Or leave him to explain about the vampire to the cops." Spike grinned, licking his lips and fangs, cleaning away the last traces of blood.

" _Spike!_ What the fuck? You weren't supposed to _kill_ them! It was just -"

"Just what, rabbit? I don't do fisticuffs. I do death. You think I'm gonna let this garbage walk away? Think again." Spike walked over to Xander - to the last man -and in a swift movement kicked him in the throat, crushing his windpipe and probably fracturing his spine. The man convulsed, strangling, and Xander skipped away from the flailing limbs, a look of horror contrasting oddly with the hyena's glowing eyes and the rising scent of excitement.

" _You_ don't care, rabbit. They're just humans."

" _I'm_ human, Spike," Xander snapped, furious, and Spike laughed, stepping up to him fast and catching the boy's chin in his hand, pinching hard.

"Not hardly, rabbit. C'mon and help me." Spike turned away and leaned down for the third man, hoisting him by his ankles and dragging his still-twitching body into the deep shadow of the corner between building and steps. He went back for another and Xander just stared at him.

" _Move_ it, pet! Want someone to see? I was going to have to eat, anyway." Xander growled, his hands still in fists - the knife glinting dully in the dim light coming from the street light on the corner. He took a hard breath and then bent to the last body; hauled it over and then stood there, his hands hanging down, looking everywhere but at the dead men. Spike slipped the cell phone out and made a quick call - turned to Xander.

"Right. Tod's sending a couple of his boys. They'll get rid of them. Too close to home, really." He studied the boy a minute - reached out and touched his cheek and Xander jerked away, baring his teeth in a silent snarl.

"Don't fuckin' touch me," he grated out. He shoved the push-knife into his pocket - looked wildly up and down the street and then started walking fast, towards the club. Spike grinned after him - trotted to catch up and fell into step beside him.

"Don't be mean, rabbit. You were brilliant! Took out two of 'em so fast, I didn't even see it!"

"I wasn't going to _kill_ them, Spike!"

"No. But I was. So who cares? You looked amazing, pet." Spike reached out, sliding his hand under Xander's hair, cupping the back of his neck and Xander tried to jerk away - aimed one of those damn fast punches straight at Spike's face and the vampire grinned, jerking aside. He caught Xander's hand - twisted and swung the boy around with his fist up between his shoulder blades, other hand still gripping his neck. He shoved Xander hard into another tree-cage and his breath hissed out of him and he struggled, rattling the cage. Spike twisted his arm higher, knowing it probably felt like it was close to dislocating and Xander froze, a thready whine of pain escaping him.

" _Stop it_ , rabbit," Spike whispered, tugging Xander's arm up, punctuating his words. Xander waited, trembling, and Spike leaned into him - pushed his erection into Xander's ass and buried his face in silky hair - let his hand slip aside enough so that he could kiss and nibble at Xander's throat. The boy's blood was pumping hard, vibrating under Spike's lips and he let his fangs just prickle over the healing marks - licked at them, sucking up a bruise there on his throat. Xander was panting roughly, shivering, and Spike slowly let his hand glide down from Xander's neck to his groin - rubbed his palm over the still-hard cock.

"You loved it, rabbit - your _beast_ did, and that's the same thing, as far as I'm concerned. It's not going to lie down for a tosser like that, and it _shouldn't_. You're better than that, pet - better than them." Spike kissed Xander's throat - his jaw - let the arm go and got Xander turned around so he could kiss him right, on the mouth. Xander just stared at him, his eyes wide and wet, his breath hitching as if he might cry - or scream.

"I don't want to kill people, Spike. I _never_ did - I never have!"

"And you still haven't. I killed them. Now kiss me, love, and we'll go - you're getting cold." Xander looked bewildered - so sad - and Spike cupped his chin, stroked his hair back from his face. His hat was gone, back in the snow, and his hair was getting damp.

"Spike?"

"C'mon, rabbit, be good now," Spike murmured, and Xander leaned forward, hesitant. Kissed him finally, cold lips and warm tongue, taste of blood still and salt, taste of honey and Spike held his face gently in his hands - pulled back finally, smiling.

"You're so good, pet. You're just right," he crooned. "Gonna fuck you tonight...gonna fuck you for so long...'til you can't even think. Won't hurt you, rabbit," he murmured and Xander's eyes closed in a long blink. Then Spike laced their fingers together and set off, pulling Xander gently along towards the club and his new job.

 _*Lovely way to start an evening. Pretty little rabbit - gonna be hard for me all night. I'll make it so good for him....*_ The snow hissed down, sparks in the darkness, and Xander's finger-tips were cold against his hand.

 

Spike took Xander straight up to Viv and left him there, ghosting a kiss along his cheek and making a small bow to Viv, who grinned at him. Xander just stood with his feet braced a little apart, fists down in his coat-pockets. He'd be fine. Tod was outside the door, looking annoyed.

"You've marked him," Tod said, cleaning under a nail with a small pen-knife and Spike raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, _yeah_. You think I'd let him back in here unmarked?" Tod snorted, frowning, and Spike just laughed. He did his rounds, noticing three soldiers and considering whether or not he'd be following them out later. But he didn't feel like going down into the Underground tonight. Tonight was all about Xander. He settled into his usual place near the bar, bottle and glass at his elbow, and watched the dancing, the drinking, the flirting and the almost-sex that was happening in the corners. 

Three hours into his shift and he'd seen Xander several times; following after Tod, listening with his head slightly averted as if annoyed that Tod was the one who's telling him what to do. His eyes glanced around every time - found _Spike_ every time, and Spike could see him stiffen, could see him take a deep breath, lick his lips. Wanting him still. Then the boy's eyes would hood, and he'd look away, angry again. Spike - just grinned. Near midnight he took a break, went to wash away the sticky film that seemed to coat his hands no matter what he did or didn't touch. Xander was there in the break room, sitting at a table and drinking a soda, his hair in his eyes. He looked a little tired - a little wary - and Spike sat across from him and lit a cigarette.

"So what's Viv having you do?" Xander glanced up and away, and Spike could smell the want and the fear coming off him, the _need_ , and the anger. _*Drivin' Tod 'round the bend, I'll wager.*_

"She's going to have me.... She's hired Silas Trott. She's going to start having fights. And she wants me to train - wants me to be the club's fighter. And...stuff." Xander took a long drink of his soda while Spike thought about that.

"'And stuff'? I'll have to ask Viv, I suppose." He looked Xander up and down and smiled. "Better train you right, then. Don't want you coming home all bruised and broken." He reached out and caught Xander's chin in his hand - lifted the boy's face and he could see a bruise on his jaw, a mark where he'd kissed with too much tooth. " _I'm_ the one that gets to mark you," he said softly, and Xander wrenched away.

"Fuck off, Spike." Mumbled into his drink, and Spike laughed. He got up stepped up onto the table - stepped down onto the bench so his thighs were on either side of Xander's shoulders, his feet bracketing his hips. Xander snatched his soda out of harm's way and glared at him, leaning back. Spike leaned forward, sinking his hands into Xander's hair and tilting his face up, getting close.

"Hush, rabbit. Don't forget whose you are, now," he said, and kissed him. Xander bit his lip, his hands clawing at Spike's forearms and Spike kissed harder, hurting him a little. Xander stopped struggling after a moment and opened his mouth a little wider and Spike took his time. When he finally drew back Xander's eyes were half-shut, dark and dilated, and _want_ was pouring off of him, the sweet musk of the hyena. Spike reached down and pressed against the fly of Xander's jeans, palming the hot, erect flesh that strained there.

"Good, that's good, rabbit. Back to work, now." He slipped off the table and sauntered out of the room and he heard Xander curse, heard him kick something. Laughing softly, he adjusted his own hard-on and went back upstairs.

 

 

Spike straightened slowly, flicking the knife he held sharply to one side. Flicking blood off the blade in an arc of fragrant drops. They shone wetly on the rough concrete of the walls. The man on the floor made a sort of gurgling cough, and Spike toed him gently in the ribs.

"Eye for an eye, Mr. Lansing," he said. The man twitched feebly, his eyes swollen shut. Perhaps a bit _more_ than 'eye for an eye', but that was all right. Spike looked down at himself - wiped a drop of blood off his stomach and brought it contemplatively to his mouth. Even cold, the _zing_ of terror was evident in it, and he contemplated draining the worthless bastard that lay at his feet. But no. House rules. He cocked his head, listening. Someone was coming rapidly down the hall - was saying something to the guard Tod had left outside. Then the door creaked open and Xander tumbled in, looking disheveled and happy.

"Spike! I was talking to Wrxl earlier and he said - _fucking_ hell, what happened?" He was staring at the man on the floor and Spike crouched down and wiped his knife clean on the man's pant-leg - slid it back into its sheath in his boot.

"Well, it seems Mr. Lansing here happened. Happened to Julian." Xander just shook his head, looking bewildered, and Spike went past him to the door and pushed it open a crack. "Tell Tod we're ready to go here," he said to the vampire that waited outside, and the vamp nodded and scurried away.

"What are you talking about? Is that - is he a soldier?" Xander hadn't moved, was breathing a little fast, and Spike went to lean against the wall opposite him. The room was a narrow rectangle - an empty storage room - with roughly finished concrete walls and floor and only one door. Perfect for payback. There were old bloodstains on the floor under the new ones Mr. Lansing was making.

"No, no soldier. You know the Ting demons? The little ones, look like kiddies?" Xander stared at him for a moment and then nodded, grimacing. Spike knew what he was thinking; pedophile, some freak. He himself had a little trouble seeing the Ting in a sexual way, as they were uncannily identical to eight or nine-year-old human children. Very fey, waif-like, and slender human children. Viv had them for clients who preferred that sort of thing since there was no way she would have _actual_ children in her club. Viv despised children.

"Thing about them is - they're like birds. Fragile little bones. They break very, very easily. And Mr. Lansing here -" Spike crouched down and put his hand on the man's chest - pushed, just a little. The cracked ribs creaked and Spike smiled. "Mr Lansing decided to take Julian into one of the rooms in the dungeon. Decided to play Daddy and punish his little boy." Spike stood back up and Xander was still looking a little confused. 

"Julian is down with Wrxl. He's got a broken arm and two breaks in his leg and cracked ribs...broken jaw, eh, Mr. Lansing?" The man moaned and Xander's eyes were wide - troubled.

" _He_ did that?" 

"Anybody could do that, rabbit. Ting break like _that_." Spike snapped his fingers and Xander flinched a little. 

"Is - Julian gonna be okay?" Xander leaned back against the wall behind him, heedless of stray blood drops. Spike came and leaned next to him, breathing his warm and spicy scent in deeply.

"Eventually. The dungeon is off-limits to the Ting. And Mr. Lansing knew that. So - he's got a broken arm and two breaks in his leg, and cracked ribs.... You get the picture." The door opened and several of Tod's boys came in. They lifted Mr. Lansing onto a blanket and bundled him up, hoisted the bundle off the floor. A muffled scream came from the blanket. Spike held up a hand and leaned forward over the bundle.

"Mr. Lansing. You are also banned for life. Good night. Boys - Wrxl said Mr. Lansing forced Julian. You can handle that, yes?" The vamps grinned, nodded, and carried the man away. Spike had no desire to perform any sort of sexual act on a client - particularly that one. Tod's get would enjoy it, though. They were that sort.

"So - where are they taking him?" Xander asked, and he was staring at the blood that had pooled on the floor.

"Oh, out to his car and down to the docks, somewhere. They'll make it look like a car-jacking. Crash his car somewhere, that sort of thing. They enjoy it." Spike straightened up from the wall and looked down at himself again. Blood was dappled over his chest and arms - over his stomach - and he didn't want to put his shirt on over it. He wiped a long streak up with his finger, navel to sternum, and paused when he heard a soft, breathy sound from the boy. 

_*Oh, the rabbit likes that. Of **course** he likes that. Time to make him **know** he likes that….*_ He looked at Xander from under lowered lashes - saw the faint flush on the boy's cheeks, and inhaled slowly, tasting the arousal and the desire that flowed from him. A sweet, thick heat that made Spike's cock throb.

"When they're scared? The blood - tastes so much better. It's like a little hit on a pipe, you know? A little rush...." He sidled up close to Xander, leaning one hand on the wall, getting in close. Xander was watching him, panting just a little, and Spike reached out and traced his bloody fingertip over Xander's mouth, painting his lips scarlet. Xander's tongue flickered out, mindless reflex, and Spike heard his heart thump harder, kicking up into a faster rhythm as he tasted the blood.

Spike shivered as warm, wet lips and tongue moved over his fingers, and he grinned in delight when Xander sucked one finger and then two into his mouth, tongue flickering and stroking. Xander's eyes glowed, the hyena in full possession, and his gaze never left Spike's - not even when he sank his teeth into Spike's flesh, biting down hard and not letting go.

"You want more then, rabbit? That what you're doing?" Spike whispered, and momentary confusion flickered over the boy's face and then he growled, biting harder, breaking the skin. Spike brought his other hand up and took Xander's jaw between his fingers, pinched hard.

"Let go, rabbit," he said, giving a little shake and Xander's jaw loosened enough for Spike to slowly draw his fingers out. "You don't get to do that without asking, pet," Spike said, and Xander licked his lips, just watching him. Spike slipped his hand around, to cup the back of Xander's skull and twine his fingers in the boy's hair. He leaned closer, got one thigh between Xander's legs and pushed, rocking. Xander's eyes were half-lidded and his mouth was slightly open. He was shivering all over, breathing in deep, jerky breaths and he canted his hips a little and pushed back and Spike laughed softly.

"All that blood - it gets to you," he whispered, and dropped his hand down to Xander's waist. He pulled his boy closer and settled in to kiss him, slow and steady. Licking the blood off his lips and then going deeper, tasting it inside the warm cave of Xander's mouth, tasting his own blood there. Xander's hands were on Spike's arms, clutching hard, sliding a little on the blood. Spike let his mouth slide down, tasting sweat and the faint sweetness of soap along Xander's jaw. Kissed the thin skin just behind the hinge of his jaw and bit there, lightly.

"Wanna be mine, rabbit? Wanna be my boy, my pet? Wanna be my own?" he whispered, pushing hip to hip, glancing pressure of Xander's cock along his. His hand in the small of Xander's back, holding him close and tight. The long strands of hair tangled in his fingers and Xander's hands locked down tight on his arms. Then he stiffened and suddenly _pushed_ , shoving Spike back and coming off the wall, furious, his eyes blazing. _*The hyena is **strong**. This should be fun....*_

"Not a _pet_. Not - an _animal_ ," Xander rasped, but he was having trouble actually _saying_ it. His teeth were bared, his lips twisted back from them in a snarl, and Spike could smell his anger. Could hear the rapid, desperate pound of his heart.

"Of course you are, rabbit," Spike said softly, and Xander flung himself forward, hard punch straight to his cheek and Spike felt the skin split, felt blood flow. The demon surged to the fore, snarling, and Xander punched again. Spike almost ducked it, almost caught his hand and crushed it a little but,... _*Let's see where this goes. Let him have the upper hand once - see what he does. Even a rabbit has to kick, sometimes.*_ Spike only dodged a little and the fist hit his mouth, his fangs, splitting his lip and Xander's knuckles.

"I am _not_ what you are! You bastard - you don't want - " Xander shoved him again, into the other wall hard enough to hurt and pinned him there. Stood trembling, chest to chest and groin to groin, and Xander was so _hard_ , and he was so hot, and Spike writhed a little under him, loving the pressure and the sharp dig of concrete into his back.

"Want _you_ , rabbit," he said, and Xander's fingers sank into his arms - shook him and lifted him - slammed him back into the wall. 

"No, you want...something...not...don't want _me_ , don't want… _make_ you want...." He couldn't get a sentence out, could barely form the words and the honey-sweet of the hyena was thick in the air. Xander lifted Spike again and spun him around, pinned him hard and Spike felt the concrete abrade his cheek - the point of his shoulder and his chest. Xander pushed his arms up, high and wide, crushing his wrists tight to the wall.

"Stay there, _stay_...don't -" Spike made a small, breathy sound - let his hips arch up and press back, let his back curve so that he swayed out from the wall a little, into Xander. He grinned when he heard the sharp intake of breath. Xander's hand scrabbled at Spike's jeans - ripped open the buttons and yanked, pulling them half-way down his thighs. His nails scored Spike's flank and Spike could feel blood welling there. There was the sound of a zipper working and then Xander was pushing tight up against Spike, heat and panting breaths all at his back, hard jut of his cock against Spike's ass.

"You can't...you fuck, always - _taking_ , just...never wanting to -" Xander's teeth sank into Spike's shoulder and he yowled, bucking hard back into Xander's crotch. The boy's hands were on his hips, nails clawing his skin open, fingers bruising. They slid a little, slick with blood - vampire's bleed easier than humans - and then his hand was between them and Spike knew what he was doing.

 _*Oh, rabbit, yes. Go on and **do** it, rabbit. Force your way in and fuck me and make me **bleed** and then you'll see, sweet little thing. You're exactly what I say you are.*_ Xander's cock pushed at him - his hands pulled, spreading Spike open and Spike tried to relax and be ready for it. But he still let out a sharp whine of pain - went up on his toes when Xander slammed into him, ripping muscle open and driving him into the wall. The scrape of concrete on his chest and cock added a second note of singing, stinging ecstasy to the deep, aching burn and Spike groaned down in his chest, guttural and low. The denim of Xander's jeans rubbed over his ass and the teeth of the zipper caught at him, tiny tweak of pain.

"Rabbit, fuck -"

"Shut _up_ , just -" Xander started to pound into him, hands and mouth moving over his back, nails and teeth tearing his skin - drawing blood. His callused fingers smeared it and then his lips and tongue lapped it up, sucking and biting and mouthing every bit he could reach. His hips slammed Spike into the wall, again and again and Spike pushed back, sinking into a kind of daze, the sweet pain and the heat, the desperate growling whine that Xander was making pushing him towards orgasm.

 _*Ah, fuck, he's **good** , that's fucking sweet, God -*_ Spike twisted, bending, angling himself around Xander's cock until it was hitting just the right place inside and he felt himself shudder all over - felt his ass clench down tight. Xander moaned, moving faster, his hands coming around to scratch at Spike's nipples - to twist and pinch _hard_. One hand slid down and pressed against Spike's belly, wrenching him back, the other found his balls and kneaded them mercilessly - pulled. Spike growled, fucking himself back on Xander and squeezing him tight inside, and Xander cried out, grabbed Spike's hips and just slammed into him, two, three, four times. Spike could feel the hot, hard jet of come inside himself and he shuddered, panting. 

Xander slumped over his back, gasping for air - still squeezing his hips, still licking and biting, almost a frenzy. Spike gave him a minute, let him almost catch his breath, and then he jerked his elbow back, catching Xander in the ribs.

Xander yelped and jumped away, pulling free of Spike's body and Spike hissed at the sharp knife of pain that came with that. He wasn't hurt badly, just bad enough. He let his human face come back, turned around, leaning against the wall, letting his shoulder slump a little. His lip still oozed blood, and his cheek, and he looked at Xander from under his lashes. Xander stood there, arms hanging down and his head bowed, his cock slicked with blood and slowly shrinking, framed by jeans he hadn't even pulled down.

"What's that, rabbit? Not an animal, you said? Not like _me_...." Xander's head jerked up and he stared at Spike, just human eyes now, dark brown and scared - bewildered. Spike felt a tickling sensation and he reached between his legs and gathered some blood on his fingertips, held his hand out, letting it shake. "This how you prove it?" he said, tiny catch in his voice and Xander cringed away in horror - looked at Spike, taking in the blood and the bruises - the scrapes from the wall. He stumbled away, hitting the opposite wall hard and sagging there. 

"Spike, Spike, I didn't - didn't want -"

"What, to hurt me? You sure? You did a damn good job." Spike yanked his jeans up far enough so that he could walk and stalked the six or steps necessary to bring him up close to the boy. He put both hands on the wall, trapping Xander between them, leaning in and getting his face up close. "You keep saying that, Xander. Didn't want this, didn't want that. Keep trying to tell me you're _better_ than me - better than the beast." Spike was murmuring into his ear - whispering his words and Xander tried to twitch away, his hands pushing weakly at Spike's chest.

"I _don't_ \- I don't want to! It's not the same, not the same...." Xander tried to twist out from under him and Spike slammed him back by his shoulders, held him still.

"Rabbit, just _stop_. You let the beast back in and now you're trying to run from it? Doesn't work that way, pet. Not at all. You've got it in you and _look_ , rabbit. Look what it did." Spike leaned back and Xander's gaze tracked over him, taking in the hurts he'd inflicted, and Spike watched him, narrow-eyed.

" _Spike_ , please, I didn't.... Why do you _do_ that, why did you - make me -" 

" _Make_ you? I didn't make you do anything, pet. This is all _you_. Your doing. You called the beast and he came and now you can't control it, can you?" Xander stared at him and two tears spilled over, running down his cheeks in quicksilver tracks and Spike bit the inside of his lip to stop the grin that threatened. _*Oh, little rabbit. So lost - so confused. I'll help you, pet, I will. Course I will.*_

"What are you gonna do, Xander? What happens when you hurt some human? What happens when you hurt _Oz_?"

"I wouldn't hurt Oz!" Xander cried, and he pushed at Spike again, turning his face away, crying for real now.

Spike took his jaw in one hand and turned his face back - made him look. "You sure, rabbit? You sure? You want him, but he won't take you.... You sure you won't just _make_ him, one day?"

"No, no, no....that's not me, that's _not_ me, I wouldn't, I wouldn't...." Xander's voice was rasping and thick with tears, was small and lost and Spike finally relented - slid his arms around the boy and hugged him close. Shushed him softly, combing one hand gently through his hair and grinning in delight when Xander's arms came hesitantly around him and hugged back hard.

"Sweet little thing, pretty little rabbit...shhhh, now, shhhh.... It's all right, it's all right, rabbit, I've got you now. I'll help you, pet - I'll fix it, yeah? I'll keep you safe, little rabbit, I'll make sure nothing happens to the wolf."

Xander shuddered, gasping hoarsely, his face wet and hot against Spike's chest. "Please, please don't...don't let me.... Spike, please -"

Spike kissed his temple - his cheek - snuggled him closer. "Don't what, rabbit? Shhh, now. Breathe, pet, shhhh...." Xander took gulping, desperate breaths - sniffed and rubbed at his face. Then his arms went around Spike again and he just leaned there, his chest hitching and his body shaking, deep tremors that probably hurt.

"I don't want...don't want to be that, Spike.... Just - please don't let me...hurt..."

"Course I won't, pet! Of course I won't. I'll help you, rabbit, I promise. You just let me, yeah? Do what I say, rabbit - that's all. All mine now and I'll take care of you, sweet, I promise." Xander nodded into his shoulder, shifted and sighed and Spike knew he was coming down hard, knew he was exhausted and open and totally, totally unguarded just now. _*So sweet - you did just what I wanted, sweetheart….*_

"You're so good, Xander - so good. Did that just right, yeah? Pretty little rabbit, so good..." Spike pulled away a little and lifted Xander's head with his fingers, looking into the red-rimmed eyes, wet and fearful and dazed. He wiped tears and blood off Xander's face - kissed him softly, gently. "Need to get you home, rabbit. Get you warm and into bed, yeah? Hot bath and maybe some chocolate…." Xander blinked, and his eyes stayed shut for a long moment, and Spike knew he was just about out.

"Good rabbit, sweet thing.... All mine now, aren't you. All mine, belong to me...I _wanted_ you, rabbit, and you're mine now, nobody else's." Xander nodded hesitantly and Spike ran his fingers over the boy's lips - cupped his cheek in his hand. "Hear me, rabbit? I wanted you, had to have you. And you're mine and I keep what's mine. Never let you go, rabbit - _never_." 

"Yours," Xander whispered, and Spike felt a burst of intense satisfaction, of delight.

 _*That's right, little rabbit. Yes. All mine. Deserve a reward for that...have to think of something nice....*_ "That's right, pet, that's right," Spike crooned. He held the boy for a few more minutes and then he slowly disengaged - pushed Xander gently into the wall and went to get his shirt. He pulled it on, buttoning hastily, wanting to get Xander home now - wanting to _fix_ this surrender. To lock it tight, make it unbreakable. _*Take my boy home and **take** him - make him beg for it, make him give everything to me. Never let go.*_ He stretched out his arm and Xander came willingly, slowly, into his embrace and leaned against him, sighing. Spike kissed his head, tasting the silky hair over his lips and tugged him into a walk.

"Gonna go home now, rabbit. Why did you come looking for me? What did you want to tell me?" he asked, and Xander took a long moment to sort that question out and find the answer.

"I - talked to Wrxl. He said he found a demon that could get the - the chip out of Oz. He's going to do it Monday."

"That's grand, pet. Wolf'll be happy to hear that," Spike said softly, and Xander smiled sleepily up at him. _*Wrxl, you old bastard, knew you'd figure it out. The wolf can get well, now, can heal....*_ His own healing was, he felt, done. He still dreamed - still avoided _thinking_ certain things. But that would fade with time, he was sure. That would eventually be nothing at all. _*Now I've got my boy to occupy me. So many things to show him… **do** to him…. He's going to be...just perfect.*_

They made their way upstairs and gathered their coats, and Spike did the buttons of Xander's jacket up tight - found his gloves. "You need new gloves, pet. And a new hat. Can't let you get sick, little rabbit."

"Mmmm...." Xander was barely verbal, barely _aware_ , and he tucked himself into Spike's side and walked out with him, arm around his waist and his head on Spike's shoulder. It was still snowing, and the sky was glowing a dark sort of pewter, the rising sun somewhere behind thick, low-bellied clouds. They walked in near silence, just the shuffling slide of wet snow and the distant hum of the highway - the dry rushing of the sea. Xander turned his face up to the clouds and closed his eyes, and Spike could see the flakes in perfect, prismatic crystals on his lashes.

 

 

_"You know, I really am beginning to question your constant use of that taser. It seems - excessive. I **do** need my subjects to be healthy."_

_"All they know is pain, doc. Go easy on 'em and they'll turn on you, just like a junkyard dog." A sharp blow to the side of his head - steel-edged fist that cracks the half-healed bone and splits the skin further. But **that** pain is far away and nothing, nothing at all to the fiery, spine-twisting agony that is the illegal taser pushed hard into his chest. Volts high enough to kill a human, high enough to send **him** into convulsions and there's blood in his mouth and he can feel a vertebra cracking in his back and something is dislocated and his throat is raw, raw and swollen and almost useless because he's been screaming for so long, so **fucking** long and it's not stopping, it's not stopping -_

_"Well, I suppose you boys know best. I need him in my lab in half an hour, sergeant, all right?"_

_"Half-hour it is, doc."_

_*No, no, nonono - find it, find it - **think** , you fuck, **say it**....*_

"Spike!" A voice from down a well - across a windy field - and it doesn't really mean anything, it was just a name, some name - _his_ name, but it doesn't _mean_ anything.

_*Now, **now** \- fucking Christ, please please please....* And it came to him in a rush: the still, humid air, the canopy so deep and vividly green that it seemed he swam underwater. Scent of rot and wet and flowering plants - of musk. The drone of insects and the strange, high cries of birds and small, secret mammals...._

_Bagheera stretched himself at full length and half shut his eyes. "Little Brother," said he, "feel under my jaw."_

_Mowgli put up his strong brown hand, and just under Bagheera's silky chin, where the giant rolling muscles were all hid by the glossy hair, he came upon a little bald spot._

_"There is no one in the jungle that knows that I, Bagheera, carry that mark - the mark of the collar; and yet, Little Brother, I was born among men, and it was among men that my mother died - in the cages of the King's Palace at Oodeypore. It was because of this that I paid the price for thee at the Council when thou wast a little naked cub. Yes, I too was born among men. I had never seen the jungle. They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera, the Panther, and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw, and came away; and because I had learned the ways of men, I became more terrible in the jungle than Shere Khan. Is it not so?"_

_"Yes," said Mowgli; "all the jungle fear Bagheera - all except Mowgli."_

_"Oh, THOU are a man's cub," said the Black Panther, very tenderly; "and even as I returned to my jungle, so thou must go back to men at last, - to the men who are thy brothers, - if thou art not killed in Council."_

_"But why - but why should any wish to kill me?" said Mowgli._

_"Look at me," said Bagheera; and Mowgli looked at him steadily between the eyes. The big panther turned his head away in half a minute._

_"THAT is why," he said, shifting his paw on the leaves. "Not even I can look thee between the eyes, and I was born among men, and I love thee, Little Brother…."_

"Spike, _Spike_ , wake up, come back -"

_*Wolf, wolfling - help me -*_

"It's all right, wake up, safe now -" The voice was closer, was soft and steady and warm but it wasn't _right_ , it wasn't the wolf and when something touched his shoulder Spike lashed out, snarling lunge. His fist connected with something and he smelled blood and then something struck _back_ and he opened his eyes. 

Familiar rough brick beside him, scratching his shoulder and hip and thigh. A rug twisted under his feet and his hands hurt. He blinked and looked, and saw his nails were broken - his fingertips bleeding. There were score-marks in the old bricks; blood and brick dust mingled there, and on his wrists. He looked dazedly around himself and saw Xander sprawled on his side on the floor. Nose bleeding, mouth red with it, hair in his eyes and that other thing coming up in his gaze, vicious and unforgiving.

 _*There you are, beast...Christ...hurts….*_ Then the other was gone and Xander was curling up, sitting up and then crouching, watching Spike.

"You awake?" he asked, and Spike gasped in a breath - did it again, catching scent, relearning where he was with every pull of air over his tongue and the back of his throat. Smoke and damp, leather and aging wood. Earthy musk of the wolf, honey-sweet of the boy. Cloves and whiskey and opium and he pushed his body hard into the wall, _feeling_ it - feeling that it was whole. He looked repeatedly over the room, but everything was too _bright_ , it was all too sharp-edged and things were jumping, flickering, making his head hurt.

"I, I don't -" He reached for Xander, _*come here, rabbit, come here, I'm so fuckin' cold....*_ Trying for his ankle but Xander was a couple of feet away, not actually close enough to touch and Spike lost his balance and swayed out from the wall - clutched at it, shivering. 

"I'm not coming over there until you're awake." Xander looked around, grabbed his vest from the night before and mopped his nose and mouth, tipped his head back, watching Spike from under his lashes and pinching the bridge of his nose hard. The strong, rich blood-scent made Spike's mouth water but his stomach rebelled, twisting in him. The jumpiness was making him nauseated. Spike watched, the cadence of Kipling's words still in his head...the ripple of blue-back pelt over muscle and a small boy, all bones and whipcord muscle snuggling up against him.... _*No, Bagheera, the jungle....*_

He shook his head and blinked, curling down over his knees, shaking harder now. Xander sniffed and wiped at his face again - pushed himself wearily to his feet. Something was buzzing in Spike's ears, making it hard to tell what sounds were right and which weren't. He could still hear a voice, but it wasn't Xander's and he was pretty sure it wasn't his.

 _*I'm awake! I'm...awake...be **quiet**....*_

"You awake?" Xander asked again and Spike nodded, trying to _say_ so but his teeth were chattering so hard he couldn't so he just kept nodding, spastic jerk of his head on his neck and it was starting to hurt a little. His shoulder and hip, already raw, scraped the bricks with every uncoordinated twitch. Xander tossed the crumpled shirt away and approached him slowly. 

"C'mon then - wanna get up? Come back to bed." Xander held his hand out and Spike reached for him and missed; looked again, squinting and reached, leaning a little and missing again, falling forward. Xander lunged for him and Spike felt the demon flash to the surface, growling. Xander jerked back, cursing, and Spike twitched away as well, letting out a yelp of pain when his back connected too hard with the brickwork.

"Fuck!" Xander crouched down again, just out of his reach. "Spike? You need to wake up, you hear me? Wake up now and let me clean you up, okay? _Spike. Wake up._ " The buzzing, rushing noise abruptly went to a shrill whine and Spike convulsed, his skull cracking sharply into the wall and his thigh and arm scouring painfully into the brick. Then it was over and in the ringing silence he could hear himself panting, could hear Xander's harsh breathing. He sucked in a deep breath, scenting again, fallen in an ungainly heap on his side.

 _*Fuckin' nightmare, that's all, that's all, home home.... Wolf is here and...my boy….*_ He struggled weakly to his knees, one hand flat on the floor, the other braced on the wall. "Rabbit...help me up," he said, and was appalled at the thin, hoarse thing his voice had become. _*God, fucking God, that was bad, that was….*_

"Guess you're awake, then," Xander muttered, but he stood up and came warily closer, hand out. Spike reached up, his hand shaking hard. He almost missed again but Xander moved towards him, caught his hand and pulled him up. Everything whirled around for one dizzy moment and then _thumped_ solidly back into place and he found himself leaning on Xander, hand clutching hand and shoulder and his head on Xander's chest. "F-fuckin' hell -" 

"It's alright...c'mon, it's alright, I've got you...." Xander's free hand rubbed gently at his back and the boy shifted, taking a little more of his weight, getting his arm around him and Spike just breathed his scent in for a moment.

"Where...is the wolf okay?" he asked, his throat hurting and Xander turned him a little, tugging him into a weak-kneed walk.

"He's fine. We were only asleep like - three hours. He's still out. C'mon, lets - lets get in the shower, okay? Wash off all that grit and stuff." Spike could feel brick dust in his hair, on his ribs and he grimaced. _*Fucking soldiers. Christ, what he saw, did I say...anything? Should have stopped him, I guess.*_ Spike had thought he was over - things - well enough that what had happened at the club wouldn't have stirred anything up. _*Fuckin' wrong about **that**. Fuck, **fuck**.*_

"Rabbit -" he started, groping for the words, and Xander flicked the bathroom light on - pushed him down onto the closed lid of the toilet.

"Don't panic, Spike. I've got Oz through a few of these. And...I've had a few myself, you know? Just - let it be." Xander got the water started and stood there, arms around his ribs, watching Spike think it through. Spike's head felt muzzy still - the jerkiness in his vision was still there and he sighed and closed his eyes, swayed where he sat and felt Xander's hands on his shoulders.

"C'mon and get clean, Spike. It's okay...." Soft voice, good scent of salt-sugar-licorice and radiating heat and Spike let himself be drawn up, drawn into the water that poured down hot and wonderful all over him. Xander's hands scrubbed over him, washing away dust and blood, the callused skin of his hands a soothing rasp that made Spike's skin tingle all over. In the darkness, with touch and smell confirming that he was home he began to feel marginally better.

After a bit Xander's hands left his body and Spike opened his eyes and watched Xander rinse himself off - turn his face up to the spray and clean the blood off his face, snorting rust-tinged water and scrubbing at his lips. Then the water shut off and Xander was squeezing the excess out of his hair - getting a towel and wrapping it around his waist, getting another and rubbing Spike dry, careful over the sealed but still-raw spots where he'd scraped himself against the wall. In the erratic stutter-blink of images that still felt half dreamed, Xander seemed to move with the jerkiness of a puppet; here one moment, there the next. Losing tiny slivers of time and Spike took in breath after breath, trying to anchor himself.

"I might have to read that book you were - were saying. It sounds kinda cool," Xander said, small curl of a smile at the corner of his mouth and Spike snorted weakly, finally getting enough coordination to scrub at his hair so it wouldn't soak his pillow through. Time seemed to smooth out a little more.

"Don't need to read it; I've got the bloody thing all in my head, line for line. One of Dru's favorites." _*There, that's better, that's - nearly normal... Don't say anything, rabbit, don't….*_

"Yeah?" Xander hung the towels up and waited for Spike to walk out, hovering. Spike snarled but his knees were still refusing to lock and he staggered a little. Xander caught him effortlessly around the ribs and steered him to the bed, making him sit. "Drink for you," he said, and went over to the cabinet, pouring a stiff shot into a glass and bringing it over. "Take your medicine like a good boy and I'll give you some candy," Xander said, utterly serious and Spike just stared at him; broke into a shaky laugh and snagged the glass, drinking it down in one gulp.

"Did it," he said, holding the glass out in a hand that shook like a leaf in a high wind. "Now where's my sugar?" His voice rasped uncomfortably and he swallowed, but he didn't take his gaze off of the boy's face. Xander's eyes were dark and a slow flush was creeping over his body. Spike still felt as if he'd been turned inside-out - felt like he'd fallen a thousand feet and jarred himself halfway to elsewhere. 

Xander took the glass and put it on the bedside table; pushed Spike flat on his back on the bed, legs hanging over the side. Xander got his knees on either side of Spike's, braced his hands beside Spike's shoulders and leaned slowly down. The kiss was slow, deliberate - consuming. Spike felt a shiver of lust go through him and he got his arms up and around Xander's neck, pulled him closer, legs falling open, urging Xander to blanket him with heat and sweat and skin. _*Oh, rabbit, nice, nice, nice. That's better than whiskey, better than... Kiss me again, rabbit, let me taste you….*_

Xander worked his arms under Spike's body and heaved him upwards, getting him higher on the bed and then laying over him, one thigh between Spikes's, his arms making Spike arch up, pressing tight. When Xander's teeth bit his lip Spike made a small, desperate noise, pushing his hips up and trying for something more. He was half hard and _wanted_ \- friction and pressure and heat.

"Rabbit, that's so good, that's so good," he murmured, baring his throat to Xander's chapped lips and nibbling teeth, to the swipe of a hot, slick tongue.

"Shhhh...." Xander whispered. He bit gently at Spike's neck, making his shivers come back. Spike felt his mouth move in a wet, warm trail from Adam's apple to collar bone to sternum and the sudden press of Xander's chin into the bone there was uncomfortable - too _much_. Spike suddenly felt suffocated - _trapped_ \- and he jerked violently, heaving Xander half off him and scrabbling away.

"Spike - _Spike_. Shhhhh...it's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't do that, I'm sorry...." Babble, and Spike lay curled tight against the headboard. Flicker, flicker, flicker like the fucking _lights_ there, that never went out and whose stuttering cycle had made his head throb, made his eyes ache.

 _*No, no, nonono.... Take a fuckin' breath, it's home, it's safe...fuck....*_ Spike forced himself to uncoil - to sit up a little and Xander just lay where he'd been pushed, eyes wide, his hair across his mouth. "Rabbit, its okay, I...just…."

"Can I touch you? Is it all right?" Xander asked, low, and Spike nodded finally, his muscles cramped tight and shaking in waves of painful spasm. 

"Okay, it's okay. Just let me…." Xander moved slowly, touching gently. Getting him to scoot down a little, to get comfortable on his side. Then he spooned up behind Spike, one arm curled under Spike's pillow and the other just stroking lightly; shoulder and arm, hip and thigh. Soothing circles across his ribs and belly. Avoiding his cock, which had softened.

"Just go back to sleep now, okay? Just rest. I'm here, I won't go anywhere, I'll keep you safe, okay? I'm here and I won't let anything come near you. Shhh, shhh, shhh…."

"Big bad rabbit," Spike murmured, snuggling closer, feeling his eyelids droop and struggle open and droop again. The heat from the boy was intoxicating and he made a low grumble of pleasure down in his chest. Xander kept up a soft litany of words; gradually inched the flannel sheet up over them and the down quilt, enveloping them and making a cocoon of heat and softness around Spike.

_*I'm home. Never warm there, never soft- this is home, home, home….*_

"You shush," Xander whispered. His voice fell to a wordless hum, and he seemed to be searching for a tune for a moment. Then the hum strengthened and after a moment Xander was _singing_ , voice so soft and low and the touch of his slow hand on Spike's body utterly hypnotic.

_"Let us be lovers...we'll marry our fortunes together…_  
_I've got some real estate here in my bag..."_

_*What are you doing, Rabbit? Treating me like the wolf, maybe. Sweet boy...God, my head hurts….*_ He said that out loud he supposed, because Xander's hand drifted to his neck and began to rub slowly, firmly. Pressing at his neck and the base of his skull with callused fingertips, rubbing his rough knuckles over Spike's shoulder and using his nails lightly, lightly on his scalp. It was bliss and Spike sighed and leaned back and just gave in - groaning softly in pleasure.

_"Kathy, I said, as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh…_  
_Michigan seems like a dream to me now…_  
_It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw…_  
_I've come to look for America..."_

"Old song," Spike grumbled, and Xander's body shook a little as he laughed softly, humming again.

"Hush, vampire. Let me do this."

"You're sweet, rabbit. Sweet...I can love, you know," Spike said abruptly, something coming loose from memory and surfacing in that odd way they did after dreams. His whole self rattled and nothing tied down, anymore. "Loved Dru...miss her.... Miss her, rabbit...my rabbit.... Pretty, pretty rabbit, kiss me again…." Spike knew he was rambling but it didn't matter. He was _safe_ , he was home, he was warm and held and it was all he'd wanted, down in the pit, and it was all he wanted now. Xander's caressing hand stilled for a moment and then Spike felt the boy's warm, hot mouth on the back of his neck.

"Don't say that. Don't call me rabbit, I'm not a rabbit," Xander whispered and Spike caught Xander's hand in his and tucked it up against his chest, fingers lacing together.

"Pretty, anyway. Rabbit." Another full-body shiver of laughter and Xander was humming again, singing again and Spike was drifting, drifting.... _*Not what I was going to do. Was going to have him tonight...make it like a collar and leash and he's slipped it….*_

Xander had been too dazed - too exhausted - and just getting the blood off him when they'd got home had been almost more than he could take. They'd ended up curled together in Spike's bed, asleep before they knew it. _*Catch him again. Hound to his rabbit...I'll lure him in...never let him go….*_

_"Kathy, I'm lost, I said, though I knew she was sleeping…_  
_I'm empty and aching and I don't know why…_  
_Counting the cars on the New Jersey turnpike…_  
_They've all come to look for America…."_

 

 

Oz was throwing up again, dry heaves that sounded as if his stomach were coming up instead of just bile and Spike's fingers tightened down on the neck of the whiskey bottle hard enough to crack it. He stared for a moment and then lifted it to his mouth, taking a long, long drink. He could hear Xander moving around in the bathroom, and then Oz brushing his teeth.

 _*Every fucking time. He's not gonna have any teeth **left**....*_ Spike tracked the wolf and Xander by the noises they made. Water shutting off, shuffling of feet, merest creaking sound as Oz was lowered gently to the couch, then the soft brush of fabric as a blanket was tucked up around him. 

"Okay?" Xander murmured, and Oz must have nodded because a moment later Xander was moving again, coming over to where Spike was and leaning wearily on the kitchen counter. "When are they gonna be here?" he asked and Spike put the bottle gently on the counter, hoping the neck wouldn't crack off.

"Five more minutes. He'll be all right, rabbit." Tiny flinch at that, but nothing more, and after a moment Spike leaned into the boy, sighing. Letting them touch, shoulder and arm and hip and thigh. Xander didn't move away and Spike…. _*Cold, is all. Snowed again last night and it's cold in here,*_ he thought. Nothing to do with nightmares. Nothing at all.

"He's - scared," Xander said finally, his voice as low as he could make it, and Spike nodded silently. He could smell the fear-stink coming off the wolf; the sick-stink, as well, because Wrxl had said no more morphine, he had to be straight. So almost twenty-four hours without a dose and the wolf was working himself into a panic and was sick, besides; the pain of the silver that lingered in his system made him double up on the couch and practically convulse with fever-induced shakes. Nothing helped. A cool shower had made the shakes worse, and noise, light, made him groan in pain. His head, he mumbled, was being sawed in two with a dull blade. His body fought to change - to _heal_ \- and he'd gotten shocked four times already by the chip when his control had slipped.

Xander - was getting as panicked as the wolf. Was ready to lash out, ready to _fight_. The musky scent of the _other_ was strong, was like clotted cream and honey on Spike's tongue. The hyena wanted to protect its pack, but there was nothing to protect it _from_ , and nerves and temper were making Xander fray around the edges. Spike thought a hard fuck would settle him but even _he_ realized that that...was not going to happen.

"Want a drink, rabbit?" Spike asked, and Xander stirred a little, looked over at him.

"Nah. I wanna be alert. And...the smell...Oz wouldn't like that in his face."

Spike nodded, sighing, taking one more swig from the bottle and then pushing it aside. He turned and nuzzled his face into Xander's hair, caught his bicep in a bruising grip when the boy tried to pull away. "Stay here, rabbit," he grated out, and Xander looked sullenly at him from under his lashes.

"You don't need me, Spike. Fuck off," he muttered, but he leaned into Spike a little more, tilting his head so that Spike could ghost sharp-edged kisses over his throat.

"Need you," Spike murmured, licking over the pulse-point. "You need _me_ , rabbit." He bit, lightly, and Xander shivered all over. Then his cell rang, and Oz was making a weak noise of frustration, trying to get up. Xander pulled away, helping him to the bathroom and Spike went out into the lobby and unlocked the elevator. Tod and his boys were upstairs, waiting.

 

Wrxl's lab was dark, for once - all the burners out, all the smoking, fuming, bubbling concoctions stilled. The club was ghostly-silent as well; no weekend cleaning or repairs, nothing. Wrxl had, somehow or another, arranged for a Knocker. So-called by other demons because they wouldn't give up their language, their name, to anyone. They were deep-dwellers, living far, far down in the bones of the earth; miles deep where they could sing up lava flows or earthquakes. They manipulated silicates, ores, sulphers. And you knew of their presence only by their complex knock code, which was _perhaps_ their language, and was the way they communicated across miles. Spike had heard tales of them, and of the fabulous wealth of precious metal and stones they hoarded. But he'd never seen one, or met anyone who had.

But now one stood in the middle of Wrxl's operating theater, a massive hunched form that looked like a collection of tightly-packed boulders in a seamed and ill-made net. The ragged-looking, rough-textured skin was chalk-pale, traced with pallid blues and greens, and the enormous, whiteless eyes were shaded by a visor of darkly-tinted plastic. Even the near-darkness of the room was, obviously, uncomfortable for the demon. Wrxl stood silently beside it, dwarfed by the Knocker but, as always, at his ease. He nodded to Spike, silent.

Oz was huddled miserably in an old-fashioned, high-backed wheelchair that Wrxl had provided, and Spike could hear his heart beating; too fast, too hard. Like the panicked thrashing of a birds wings and Spike crouched down in front of him, reaching up to touch his cheek - make him focus on _him_ , not the demon, not the muted gleam of surgical tools and the blanket-draped gurney that had made bile rise in Spike's throat.

"Wolf, you've gotta calm down now - you've _got_ to. Can't go in there all panicked, it won't do you any bloody good, yeah? It won't hurt you, wolf." Oz gasped in a shaky breath; did it again, looking a sickly greenish-white. One hand held Xander's in a crushing grip, and the other was twisting futilely, desperately in the hem of his shirt, tearing it. His hair - grown out long and fading to its natural deep auburn - was stringing with sweat and his eyes flashed black and cleared, again and again. Each flash sent a tiny convulsion through him and Spike was afraid his heart was going to stop.

"I n-know. I know, I can't - c-c-can't -"

"Yes you _can_ , Oz!" Xander crouched down as well, his face pale, _pain_ coming off him and Spike knew his hand was going to be black with bruises. "Just - do that thing, that, headspace. _Help_ him, Spike!" Xander looked as ready to panic as Oz and Spike reached out and cupped the back of Xander's neck in his hand, drawing him close.

"It's all _right_ , rabbit. You help too. Breathe deep, now. Make a pattern for him to follow, yeah?" Xander shivered under his touch, swallowing hard, but he nodded and took a deep breath; took another and another. 

"Listen, wolf, listen to him. Match him. C'mon." Oz's breathing was starting to creep up into a keening whine and Spike very carefully reached out and touched his face - _made_ his wild gaze settle on Spike's own. " _Oz_. Listen to him. Breathe, love, breathe. C'mon, wolf. In now, go slow...."

Oz nodded fractionally, shaking all over, but his breathing began to slow and steady. "Good, that's good, love. Now think of something, yeah? Think of a place…."

"C-can't...Sssspike...." Desperate wail and Spike shushed him, ignoring Xander's dark look and the wince of pain as Oz's nails dug into the boy's hand.

"Yes, you _can_. Listen, wolf - _listen!_ Tell me about...tell me about the horse. You remember? The one like a pinwheel. Tell me that, wolf, tell me that." Oz's eyes flickered, flickered, and Spike fought the welling unease in his own stomach and closed his eyes - deliberately _remembered_. "Wolf, need you. Please, I need you. Take me out of here wolf, please, _please_." He felt Xander's startled jerk and ignored it, knowing how he sounded. Voice low and rough and raw - his tone one of abject despair. How it started, down in the Pit, and Oz wouldn't ignore him. _Couldn't._

"The...horse. Horse…." Oz's voice had dropped an octave, his breathing steadied and smoothed out, and Spike heard his heart start to slow. Moving into it, into headspace, and Spike waited, trembling, hoping it would work.

 

_"Then we saw him. He came up along the ditch and then turned straight across the field, riding the horse. Its mane and tail were going, as though in motion they were carrying out the splotchy pattern of its coat: he looked like he was riding on a big pinwheel, barebacked, with a rope bridle, and no hat on his head. It was a descendant of those Texas ponies Flem Snopes brought here twenty-five years ago and auctioned off for two dollars a head and nobody but old Lon Quick ever caught his and still owned some of the blood because he could never give it away._

_He galloped up and stopped, his heels in the horse's ribs and it dancing and swirling like the shape of its mane and tail and the splotches of its coat had nothing whatever to do with the flesh-and-bone horse inside them, and he sat there, looking at us._

_"Where did you get that horse?" pa said._

_"Bought it," Jewel said. "From Mr. Quick."_

 

Oz was inside, now, in the space and his grip had gone lax on Xander's hand; his heartbeat solid and steady, his breathing slow and easy. Spike nodded silently to Xander and they both stood up slowly. Mir came to push the wheelchair into the other room.

"Wait - I want to be with him. Wanna sit with him." Xander had his hand on the arm of the chair and Mir's whiskers strained forward and flattened. She shot a quick glance at Spike.

"Can't, you can't. The Knocker's going to sing him to sleep, going to sing that thing out of his head. But it's going to take a long time, going to take hours." Mir's voice was whisper-soft but Spike could hear the tension in it. "And Knocker says, any noise, any _thing_ , and his song won't be right and the wolf will…. Won't be good. Can't." Mir's whiskers stayed flat, a sign of her distress at being the one to say 'no'. Xander looked ready to argue and Spike reached over and touched his shoulder.

"Don't, rabbit. If she says we can't, we can't. Knockers are - special. We can't."

Xander stared at him, his eyes enormous and black in the dimness, brimming with sudden moisture and the boy put his hand up fast, wiping fiercely. "F-fine then. We'll - stay out here. We'll watch -"

"No - no." Mir's color deepened - her spots stood out in bold relief as her discomfort grew. "Knocker says, heartbeat, breath, it will be wrong. _Can't_."

Xander's mouth opened but no sound came out, and he looked away, blinking hard, his chest hitching. "Well, S-spike can stay, then - can watch over him -"

"I'm coming with you, pet. Can't help, and don't want to chance messing it up. Let him go, rabbit, Wrxl won't let him come to harm. You know that."

Xander put his fists to his temples for a moment - took a sharp breath in, wiping rapidly at his eyes. "Yeah, fine - fine. I gotta...." He leaned down, close to the wolf. "Oz, you'll be fine, we'll be...be waiting." Oz made no response, his voice whispering on, and Xander touched his wrist where it lay fragile and pale as a bird bone on his thigh. Then he hurried away, out of Wrxl's suite of rooms, heading for the stairs.

Spike bent to Oz's ear as well, whispering softly to him. "Keep me safe, Oz, make it all go away," he breathed, and Oz's eyes found his; blinked once, slowly, and he nodded faintly. Spike straightened, wishing that they _could_ stay, but knowing Wrxl would forbid it. "We'll be back, Mir. Thanks."

"Of course," Mir said, whiskers coming forward in relief, and she began to gently push the wheelchair forward towards the Knocker, who shifted slightly and emitted a rumbling, sub-sonic noise that made Spike's bones ache. He turned and left as well, Oz's voice knitting up the holes and tears in his _own_ soul, making him dream himself elsewhere for as long as it took.

 

_"Jewel, I say. Overhead the day drives level and grey, hiding the sun by a flight of grey spears. In the rain the mules smoke a little, splashed yellow with mud, the off one clinging in sliding lunges to the side of the road above the ditch. The tilted lumber gleams dull yellow, water-soaked and heavy as lead, tilted at a steep angle into the ditch above the broken wheel; about the shattered spokes and about Jewel's ankles a runnel of yellow neither water nor earth swirls, curving with the yellow road neither of earth nor water, down the hill dissolving into a streaming mass of dark green neither earth nor sky. Jewel, I say...."_

 

 

 

 

_____________________________________  
Quotes are, in order:  
Rudyard Kipling - _Mowgli's Brothers (The Jungle Books)_  
Simon and Garfunkel - _America (Bookends)_  
William Faulkner - _As I Lay Dying_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third and final chapter. Thank you, all! :)

He found Xander outside, standing huddled in his pea jacket smoking a stolen cigarette. He still hadn't gotten the boy a new hat - or gloves without holes - and Xander looked cold and miserable. He was crying, but he was pretending he wasn't. Spike walked over to him and took the cigarette - finished it off in one long drag and flicked it away. He leaned into Xander, pushing his back into the rough brick of the building, burying his face for a moment in the warm crook of his neck. Xander was trembling all over, fists clenched at his sides.

"Pretty rabbit, I know just what you need," Spike said softly, and Xander jerked a little.

"Stop calling me -"

"Hush. Hush, rabbit. Some things aren't worth fighting over." Spike nibbled his way from throat to jaw to lips and pushed slowly into the heat and wet of the boy's mouth with a contented sigh, the cold salt tears on his tongue warming and washing away. Xander stiffened under him and then sagged, tilting his head over, and Spike felt his hands clench into the worn edges of the duster and pull.

"Spike," Xander breathed, when he could, and Spike kissed the cold tip of his nose and then grabbed his hand. 

"C'mon, love. Promise I'll make it better," he whispered, and then he tugged Xander into motion, down the street, a different direction than before. Xander walked silently, only his erratic breathing showing how upset he was. _*Poor rabbit. But I'll make him forget, for a little while...make me forget.*_

They walked about four blocks, the streets deserted, the city hushed under the snow. A steady, ice-edged wind blew from the west and dislodged snow sifted down, making halos around the street-lights and dusting Xander's hair and shoulders with tiny crystals that winked and shone in the halogen light. His hand was cold in Spike's, but it clutched fiercely tight. A block to go and Spike felt the tiny shift in the boy - waited for what would come next.

"Do you think - it'll work?" Xander asked, and Spike sighed.

"I trust Wrxl. That's all I can say, rabbit. And Knockers...they have power. I don't know what it's going to do, exactly, but if Wrxl says it can sing that thing out of the wolf, I believe him. Never saw a Knocker before," he added, unable to keep the tone of wonder out of his voice, and Xander glanced over at him.

"So they're like - rare?"

"Oh, very. Live down deep, miles deep. I wonder how he called one." A door opened ten yards ahead, letting out a waft of air that was thick with blood and sweat and aged-wood smells. A heavy-set man came out and glanced at them, then away, walking past up the street. Spike grabbed the dull brass knob on the door and opened it, ushering Xander inside.

O'Shea's was a gym, specifically, a training gym for boxers, and had been for over fifty years. O'Shea Senior had opened it and passed it on to Junior, and the clientele had always been a mix of demon and human. The only fighting there took place in the rings and the gods themselves couldn't help the man - or demon - who carried a grudge into that space. Xander took stock with quick, raking glances, head up and the other, the hyena, responding to the heavy air of man and musk and _fight_.

"Let's get warm and then go a round or two, yeah? Do you good, rabbit," Spike said, stripping off his duster. Xander gazed at him for a moment and then nodded - did the same, shoving his ratty gloves away into a pocket. A slim, doe-eyed boy - an O'Shea of the fourth or fifth generation - sat on a stool behind a high counter and he wordlessly pushed a thick book across to Spike as he came up. Spike exchanged book for duster and the boy took Xander's coat as well, hanging them on a row of pegs behind him as Spike opened the book.

"You'll need Robbie?" he asked, and Spike nodded, scribbling his name and Xander's down on the smeary, crumpled page.

"Yeah. And some gear. An' there's a cell in my coat. If it rings, you answer it and get it to me, yeah? Expecting a call." The boy nodded, taking the book back and then fished under the counter - slid a key over to Spike. 

"Hedge's got the gear," he said, and jerked his chin towards the back. Under the thick mop of black hair his eyes sparked a dull orange-red for a moment, and Spike felt Xander twitch ever so slightly. Spike took the key and they walked back, past lone men pummeling heavy bags or speed bags, past others doing some portion of a physical routine. Two of the five practice rings were in use - earlier, or on a weekend, they wouldn't have had a chance at an empty ring, but Monday near midnight was slack time.

The changing room in the back was steamy and damp, smelling faintly of mildew and more strongly of bleach and mentholated liniment. Spike found the locker and opened it - started to strip - and Xander leaned into the wall of green-painted metal, watching him.

"Gettin' a show, rabbit? Strip down. You need to get warm before you can do anything." Even in the heat of the room Spike could see Xander was still shivering, even though it was more from nerves than cold. Either way, he needed to calm down, and Spike knew how to do that.

"What are we doing here? I - what if Oz needs us? What if -"

"Got my cell, rabbit. If Wrxl calls, we'll know. You _need_ this, pet - do you some good. Get some of that tension out of you." Spike was naked now and he grinned at Xander - stepped up close and pushed his hands up under the layers of flannel and thermal and t-shirt, finding the clenched muscles of Xander's belly and rubbing his palms over them, slow sweep around and around. "C'mon, rabbit. It'll feel good. We'll fight a bit, get the blood up...." Spike let his hands slide lower, rubbing at the worn denim covering Xander's groin - feeling the stir of his cock there even as Xander flinched away, frowning.

"Don't, Spike! Oz -"

"Wolf is _fine_ , pet, and you know it. I wouldn't leave him to be hurt. You _know_ that. Get undressed and we'll go in the sauna for a bit - make your joints all loose and easy, yeah? Make you so relaxed, rabbit." Spike leaned on him, hand's sliding up and curving around Xander's ribs, his own cock half-hard and pressed into Xander's. He bit at Xander's mouth, nipping gently, and Xander stiffened - made to shove him off. Spike thrust him back and kissed him _hard_ \- kissed him until Xander was whimpering down in his throat, fingers clutching at Spike's hips. He pulled back and Xander gasped after a breath, eyes closed and lips wet and red.

"Strip now, pet. Let's go," Spike urged, and after a moment Xander nodded. He stripped down - followed Spike to the sauna where they grabbed towels out of a bin and went inside. The jungle-wet air curled around them, heavy with moisture and as warm as an open flame. Mingled smells of cedar, pine, and sage were in the air, the fragrant wood-chips glowing in braziers set around the room. Others held hot rocks and Spike got a dipper full of water from a bucket, sprinkled it over the rocks and breathed deeply of the astringent steam that billowed up. He took the warmth deep into his lungs and smiled, pleased, when Xander did the same. There were benches ranged in tiers around the walls; some large enough to be beds, others so narrow they were more like perches for birds. Spike stepped up and settled on a top one, leaned out and snagged Xander's towel and pulled him close; got him settled on the bench right below Spike. Xander sat stiffly for a moment and then he leaned back, his head on Spike's thigh, his hair silky and warm over Spike's groin.

_*Need to teach you some tricks, rabbit, for your fights. Can't have you being hurt. Knowing Viv, they'll be as nasty as she can make 'em, and if you're gonna fight for her you need to know how to be dirty...and you are gonna **win** these fights, rabbit. No going down for you.*_ Spike threaded his fingers through Xander's hair - tugged and petted and soothed until the stiffness went out of the boy's shoulders and his breathing slowed, his heart settled to a rhythm close to sleep. Then he eased Xander forward and slid down behind him, cradling the heated flesh, stroking his hands over Xander's chest and ribs, over his shoulders. Teasing his nipples, just brushing the rapidly hardening crown of his cock. His own cock was hard between them and he ground forward into sweat-slick skin, his mouth on Xander's neck, breathing in the heady scents of his boy.

"Spike," Xander murmured, his hands on Spike's thighs, kneading and stroking.

"Shhh, rabbit, shhhh. You're so fucking lovely, rabbit, so pretty and so warm...so good for me...." Spike brought his right arm across Xander's ribs, hand tight on Xander's left shoulder. His left hand curled loosely around Xander's cock and he started a slow stroking. Every tug and pinch and twist his hand did resulted in a rolling of hips, a buck up or back and Spike pressed forward harder, grinding himself into the boy, stroking faster. Xander was breathing hard, his fingers sunk into Spike's thighs, his head lolling back on Spike's shoulder. Spike let his teeth close down on Xander's neck, over the place he'd bit before, and as his fangs prickled into the arching curve Xander bucked hard, moaning, and came.

Spike's eyes fluttered shut and he sank his fangs in; sucked in the merest sip of blood, shuddering, and came as well. The musky sea-salt smell was thick in the air and Spike pulled away from Xander's throat, licking a stray drop of blood, lifting his hand to his lips and licking a bit there, as well. Xander watched, eyes half-lidded.

"You taste good, pet. Like something rich and bitter-sweet...like almonds and sugar." Spike nuzzled at his jaw, getting a kiss, and then he pushed Xander up and grabbed his towel - cleaned them both up. Xander blinked at him and Spike grinned.

"C'mon, rabbit; no time for naps, let's go fight." Xander opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, frowning, and Spike just grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the sauna and over to a cage at the end of the row of lockers. A reedy-looking old man, with a shock of white hair like a dandelion sat inside, intently watching a small TV. He glanced up as they approached and pointed off to one side.

"Gear's there. Take what you like."

"Hedge," Spike murmured, and the old man nodded, eyes back to the TV and the fight playing out on ESPN. A box full of neatly folded sweat pants and other clothes left behind sat on a chair, smelling of detergent. They pawed through it, finding grey sweats for Spike and dark blue ones for Xander. They fit passably, although Spike had to tighten the drawstring down fairly tight. Then they went out into the gym proper, and claimed a ring.

 

Xander's head was down, held low and still, and he watched Spike from under his lashes, eyes gone the color of a greengage. The honey-musk of the hyena overrode all other scents, and Xander moved with a liquid grace he normally didn't have. His muscles shifted fluidly under his skin, bruises coming up plum-ripe on ribs and shoulders, blood in a thin line down his temple. Xander whipped his head to one side, throwing a spatter of scarlet drops to the canvas. His teeth were bared, a rictus smile that was more a snarl. Spike wiped his taped knuckles across his upper lip, smearing the blood there. Xander was _good_. His punches were snake-fast and hard as a mule kick, and the quick one-two blow he favored would have ended in Spike's guts being outside his belly more than once, if the boy'd had his push-knife in his fist. Spike wore his own patina of blood and bruises, and his body was warm and delightfully sore. Robbie, the gym's masseuse, would turn that into a heady glow.

_*Oh, my rabbit's going to be the darling of the mob, he is.*_ Spike grinned and shifted, circling, and Xander followed him easily, dancing on the balls of his bare feet. There was blood across the tape on Xander's own knuckles, and he'd made a little chuckling sound of delight when he'd drawn first blood. Nearly an hour and he showed no real signs of fatigue. The hyena was almost as strong as the vampire, almost as fast, and Spike knew it was only his age and hard-won experience that had kept him from going down so far. _*Just needs a few tricks, he does - always somebody stronger or faster, and he needs to know a few nasty moves of his own.*_

"Learn this, rabbit, it's a handy trick," Spike said, and moved in. He showed - by demonstration - a twisting move and neck-snapping hold, showing the strength of it very carefully before letting go. Xander turned and did it right back, almost perfect, and Spike kicked his feet out from under him - was yanked down to the canvas hard after when Xander popped the vampire's knee sideways and up, surprise move Spike hadn't expected. They both grappled for a hold, rolling across the worn, sprung pads of the ring. Xander was oiled with sweat and managed to twist himself almost free until Spike finally got him pinned, held him there with leverage and strength that the boy was in no position to counter.

"You're good, rabbit. Viv'll be pleased." Xander panted up at him, straining his shoulders in a hopeless attempt to push Spike off. He legs were trapped as well, pinned between thigh and calf, spread a little. He could arch just right and push his groin into Spike's and he did, deliberate provocation. Spike leaned in closer to kiss him and Xander's teeth snapped, narrowly missing taking a chunk out of his lip. "Settle _down_ , rabbit. Don't want to have to punish you." Xander writhed again, almost growling down in his throat and Spike vamped and growled for real; sank his fingers deep into the muscles of Xander's forearms, hurting him.

"Ssspike..." Xander hissed, and his voice was rough and hoarse and furious. Spike shivered all over in delight.

"Gonna be good, rabbit?" Spike murmured, leaning in close again. He pulled in a deep breath, scenting anger and blood and musk and sweat, scenting desire. Xander lifted his head and snapped his teeth again - turned and sank them into Spike's bicep. Spike hissed in pain; deliberately didn't jerk away and watched the blood well out around Xander's lips, run down his arm and onto Xander's shoulder, where Spike had firmly planted his elbow. Xander was making that growling sound again and then he was struggling a little - swallowing convulsively in an effort not to choke _*You drink that, rabbit - it's good for you. Makes you doubly mine, that does. Do you know that? Might have to tell you some time.*_

While Xander was occupied Spike snaked his head around and got his fangs locked over Xander's throat, razoring points sinking in just enough and he felt Xander's hips buck under his, felt the hardening cock against his own and felt the boy shiver. After a moment Xander's jaw relaxed and he slowly let go of Spike's arm and began to clean the blood away with broad, wet licks of his tongue. Spike ground his own hips down, rubbing a little, and just as slowly let Xander go. The boy's whole body was loosening under him, sinking just a little under him, and Spike eased off a little, himself. With a convulsive heave Xander somehow shoved him _up_ and over and was on him, _hard_ , driving out the air Spike had taken in to talk with in a hard grunt. Arms pinned under his back and caught in Xander's grip, the whole weight of the boy on his chest and stomach, Spike strained to break free. Xander darted in, his mouth clamping down hard on Spike's throat. Spike tensed, waiting for the teeth to sink in, but after a moment Xander's grip loosened and he began to rub his cheek against Spike's jaw.

_*Huh. Didn't bite...wonder why? Have to remember that little move - that was good. Won't catch me out again, but it worked a treat.*_ "What do you want, rabbit?" Spike asked softly, and Xander's mouth was soft on his neck, on his jaw; his lips wet and warm, moving steadily up towards Spike's mouth. His grip on Spike's wrists loosened and Spike pulled his arms out from under himself, wrapped them around Xander and rolled them both, propping himself on his elbows. Xander looked up at him, still mostly the hyena, Spike could tell. A little lost, and a lot turned on.

"You said...I was yours."

Spike felt himself go still all over - felt a sort of weird calm descend on his mind, and he took a long breath, thinking what he was going to say. "I did. And so did you. Remember, rabbit?"

Xander's eyes were dark, widely dilated and still so very green and strange, so distant. Searching his face while Xander - the _hyena_ \- thought. "You're not...the same," he said finally, confusion in his voice and Spike nodded slowly.

"No, not at all. But you won't find one of your kind anywhere here. You're alone here, except for me."

"And Oz," Xander growled, and Spike dipped his head and ran a series of nibbling kisses down Xander's neck. He felt the shock of each touch through the boy's body, little shivers of lust and fury.

"Wolfling isn't the same, either. He's not your pack." He looked at Xander again, and _saw_ that fury - and saw fear.

"He's _mine_ ," the hyena insisted, slightly panicked now.

"No love, he isn't. Isn't anybody's. Doesn't _want_ to be. "

"Need him. _Need him._ " Xander looked sharply at Spike then, eyes narrowing, his body tensing again. "He's not _yours._ " 

"No, rabbit, he's not. He's his own. We'll fix him and then he's going, and we won't stop him. But I'm here."

Xander shoved at him suddenly - fought him for a moment and then slumped back, panting. He closed his eyes, and Spike could feel Xander's hands, trembling, resting lightly on his ribs. "You don't need me, Spike," he said finally, and Spike squirmed a little, easing his hips in the cup of Xander's pelvis. Feeling the hardness that hadn't gone away.

"You know that, do you? How do you know?"

"How can you?" Xander's hand moved slowly, up Spike's ribs to his chest and then up farther, to trace his jaw and cheekbone, to feather lightly over Spike's mouth. "You want...this. Fighter. You want your rabbit to chase and catch and let go for another chase. You want...."

"Want _you_ , love," Spike interrupted softly, and leaned down to kiss him, to kiss as slowly and as sweetly as he was capable of; to kiss the boy like he used to kiss Dru, so many years and miles ago. _*Sweet as honey wine, sweet as blood…. Mine, my boy, my rabbit....*_ "Just you," he sighed, and felt Xander quake under him - looked up to see the hyena quite, quite gone.

"Want to go home, Spike," he said, and so they went.

 

Taking him, in the bed they'd only shared once, was a slow and careful process, a delicate dance of want and wait. He touched every bruise and scrape his hands had put on Xander's body; soothed them with his fingers and his lips and his tongue and his _voice_ ; murmured praise and consolation and flattery until Xander was trembling and writhing and crying softly, begging him to stop, to never stop, to please, please, _please_ ….

Easing into the slick-tight heat of him, Spike watched Xander arch and go still, eyes wide and deep as the sea, as dark as old, old wine. He'd _had_ this body, had this boy, but it was different now. It was slow and it was nearly gentle and Xander was all heat and willing complicity; moving his hips just so, his hands locked together in the small of Spike's back, his gaze never wavering from Spike's.

Spike breathed in, long and slow and deep, filling his lungs with the scent of his boy, filling his mouth. He kissed over Xander's shoulders and throat, over his face, and his hands curled around Xander's shoulders, pulling him closer. Thighs against his ribs, Xander's heels urging him on and Spike drew back and pushed in, back and in, as slow as he could make himself. Surrounded by the heat and scent his demon settled, finally; turning in him like a dog and lying down, able to _wait_ , for once, for what it wanted.

"Rabbit, pretty rabbit, pretty boy...sweet...mine now.... Do you know it, pet? Do you feel me, wanting you? Tell me, rabbit," Spike whispered, and Xander shivered and tightened his arms - lifted his head enough to kiss Spike's mouth.

"Spike...feel you.... Can't let me go. Can't ever. Won't - take it. Won't let you, Spike." His voice was shaking with need, with tension and with emotion and Spike kissed him back, pressing in closer, harder - wanting the boy to _know_ without doubt.

"I know, rabbit, I know. I don't take lightly, pet; haven't had anyone, since Dru. Hear me? Haven't wanted anyone. Want _you_ , pretty rabbit.... God, you're so warm, pet, you're so...lovely."

"Spike - Spike -" Xander arched and pulled at him, desperate and writhing and _crying_ , silent tears that Spike had to taste. Forehead to forehead, then, his body moving without thought; Xander's heartbeat shuddering through both of them and at the last moment he slipped aside and let the demon rise, let it bite and taste as lightly as a hummingbird to the blossom. Xander gasped harshly, once, twice, and his body gripped Spike's like velvet and iron, drawing him in and shuddering around him. Spike pressed close and let his fangs slip free, heard the keening wail of his own voice as he came, and hugged the shivering boy close to him while they both panted for air.

After a few minutes Spike raised his head, looking down at the boy and Xander looked back, solemn and still. "You alright, rabbit?" he asked, and wondered why he was asking.

Xander blinked and opened his mouth; ended up huffing out a breath and turning his head a little, thinking. "I'm alright. I wish Wrxl would call."

"He'll call." Spike tasted, one more time, the sweet-salt of Xander's skin and then he pulled himself slowly upright and rolled off the bed. "Let's go shower, then. And I'm going to call Tod, have him bring by something to eat. You hungry?" 

"No," Xander said, and followed him into the kitchen. Xander took a long drink of juice while Spike called Tod, and then he started the shower. They washed, bumping elbows and hips, and Spike leaned against the tile and watched Xander rinse his hair; looked with satisfaction and some arousal at the chain of scars, healing marks and bites that made a sort of collar around Xander's neck.

_*Lovely rabbit. Needs a real collar, though.... Nothing big, nothing...obvious. Just something to keep him...aware.*_ Spike knew what he wanted and he grinned a little, making plans in his head.

Xander shook the water out of his eyes and looked at him warily. "What are you thinking, Spike?"

"Thinking how lovely you are, rabbit."

Xander's gaze dropped to Spike's groin and feral sort of grin flitted over his face. "Is that what you're thinking?" Xander took the two steps that brought him flush with Spike and leaned there, one hand on the tiles, one on Spike's chest. Xander's thigh pushed between his legs and his hand dropped slowly, petting over Spike's belly and then curling lower to cup his balls. "I think you were thinking something else."

"One naturally follows the other. You're too pretty, pet - can't think of you without wanting you," Spike murmured, and Xander leaned in closer, catching his mouth in a hard kiss, all teeth and push and stabbing tongue. Xander's thigh pushed up, rocking, and Spike let one hand drop to the boy's hip, slid the other up into his hair and tangled there, tugging lightly. After a moment Xander's other hand joined the first, slippery with soap and Spike arched against him as Xander's cock - half hard and growing - slid along the length of his own. Then Xander caught them both together in his fist and started a slow, hard pumping that had them both gasping and jerking. 

"Fuck, Spike -" Xander gasped, his breath hot on Spike's cheek, and Spike bit lightly at his jaw.

"Yeah, exactly what I was thinking, rabbit...." Spike spun them around, Xander up against the tile now. He hauled one of the boy's legs up, hooking it over his hip. Xander stared at him and then understanding hit and he slid his hands up and got his forearms on Spike's shoulders; pushed, and Spike lifted, hands under both thighs. Xander's back slid on the wall and he pushed away a little, arching his back and canting his hips. Spike dug his fingers into the solid muscle of his ass and spread him open. It took a minute's maneuvering, and a push or two from Xander's hand but then Spike was sliding into heat again, glorious, tight heat. 

It was a little awkward - he couldn't move as much as he wanted - but Xander wrapped around him like a vine and bit at his neck, kissed him like he was drowning, pushing air into his lungs and clawing his back. Spike made more bruises, on hips and thighs, and when he came it was with a hoarse, growling shout. Xander bit hard enough to draw blood, his own hand tight and brutal on his cock. 

"Rabbit, that's so good." Spike eased himself out and Xander down and they both just braced each other in the hot spray for a while, slow kisses and glancing touches until, mindful of Tod coming, Spike shut the water off. They both dressed in jeans; a vest and worn flannel left flapping open for Xander, a thin, baggy sweater for Spike. He thought about lighting the stove but then decided against it. He didn't like it to be lit when he wasn't there, and Wrxl might call at any time. Spike got a drink from the cabinet, checked to be sure his cell was on the charger, and no messages had come in. Xander was in the kitchen, making a grilled-cheese sandwich.

"Thought you weren't hungry, pet," Spike said, getting a beer from beside the fridge, and Xander shrugged. 

"Guess I changed my mind. That last...bit -" Xander waved the spatula towards the bathroom, "got me kinda...worn out. Need to refuel."

"I like wearing you out, rabbit." Spike nipped at his earlobe, passing behind him and Xander shivered and grinned down at the stove, hiding behind the tendrils of long, damp hair that fell over his face. Spike's cell chirruped and he picked it up - listened briefly. 

"Tod's here. No nonsense from you, rabbit," he warned, and Xander shot him a dark look and carried his sandwich to the island. Spike went out to the elevator to let Tod in and waited impatiently for him in the living room, lighting a cigarette.

_*Only been a couple of hours...nowhere near as long as Mir said it would take.... I hate this, waiting. Might have to take the rabbit out, go find a soldier boy or play some pool.*_ Tod came in, leading an older man by a handful of his quilted jacket. The man seemed dazed, and there was a lump forming on his temple.

"What's this, then?" Spike asked, frowning, and Tod shrugged. 

"You wanted something in a hurry - he was closest. Irish good enough for you?" Tod yanked the neck of the jacket back, revealing a priest's collar and shirt, and Spike snorted softly.

"Irish sticks in my teeth, but I'm hungry." Spike put his cigarette in his mouth and pulled the jacket down, trapping the man's arms. Then, with care, he began to undo the collar and shirt-buttons, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. The man blinked at him, then over at Tod.

"He showed me...the face of the devil. He said...I had sinned." Tod chuckled softly and Spike shot a quelling look at him.

"You've all sinned, Father. You've all sinned and you'll all pay. Consider me...your personal psychopomp." Spike let the demon out, grinning fiercely, and with a jerk tore the t-shirt apart at the neck, yanking it down as well. He spun the man around and pinned his arms to his ribs - took his cigarette in his other hand and pulled the priest's head over by a handful of hair. Tod had vamped as well and stood there, eyes bright and fangs bared.

"Oh - my G-god, my God -"

"Why hast he forsaken thee...." Spike whispered. The priest smelled of church incense and musty wood, snow and cigarettes and Scotch. " _Requiem aeternam dona eis Domine; et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace,_ " Spike whispered. The priest drew in a moaning, hitching breath and Spike sank his fangs in, drawing slowly. He _knew_ what it felt like to have a vampire take you in this leisurely fashion; Dru had done it, and so had he, many times. It felt like an orgasm that might never end, and it suited Spike to send the priest off to heaven or hell or wherever he might go with _that_ suffusing his body and mind. The best thing this priest had ever felt, given to him by a demon - given to him as he died.

The blood was so hot, spiced with liquor and terror, swimming with helpless arousal and the endorphins of shock. He groaned, his eyes fluttering closed in bliss, and missed Xander walking up to him, standing there, watching the priest die. The man tried to reach out and Spike opened his eyes, watched Xander watching. Xander put his hand out, and touched the man's cheek.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

_*Oh rabbit. Sorry means nothing to him now. Sorry is only a sigh. He's meeting his god or his devils, and you...aren't even there.*_ The priest's heart slowed and stuttered and finally stopped, and Spike drew the last of the blood into his mouth and drew away. He shoved the corpse towards Tod and licked his fangs, shook the demon away. "Don't fret, rabbit - plenty more where he came from. They breed like mice, you know." Xander's look was shocked and furious and Spike grinned at him, lifting his still-smoldering cigarette to his mouth and taking a long drag.

"You mean _I_ do. I'm what he is, Spike."

"No you're not, rabbit," Spike said, amused, and Xander's eyes sparked green. He snarled silently and advanced, grabbing a handful of sweater and shoving Spike back. Spike's thighs hit the couch-back and he braced there, smirking, watching Xander struggle for control.

"Yes I _am_! I am _not_ like _you_." Spike flicked the butt away and took Xander's fist in his hand; squeezed hard enough to hurt him, making him let go his handful of cotton and silk. His other hand darted up to knot in Xander's hair and yank his head forward, inches from Spike's. Xander's free hand clawed at him, trying to pry Spike's grip loose.

"What's that I see then, rabbit? What's that leaping up behind your eyes like the devil himself? You're no more human that I am - than Oz. Time you learned that." Xander stared at him, his mouth working, too angry to form actual words. Spike heard the door sliding shut, the elevator clanking upwards, and knew Tod was gone. Xander went utterly still suddenly and Spike thought, _*he's going to do something -*_ and then Xander _did_ , sharp, hard punch straight up into Spike's jaw, knocking his head back with a snap, splitting his lip against his upper teeth and making his head swim for a moment. 

Spike _roared_ , the demon flashing to the surface. He lunged at Xander and drove him back in rapid, stumbling steps, crashing him into the wall near the bathroom hard enough to make him cry out. His fists were in Xander's shirt, pinning him up too high for him get any leverage and he pushed his thigh between Xander's and ground into him, not letting him move an inch.

"You think you're just some fucking _boy_ , rabbit? Think you're just some everyday bloke who's stumbled into something wicked - something rich and strange? You're _not_." Spike's voice dropped to a rumbling growl. "You've the devil in you, same as we all do, and your devil likes the fight, boy, likes the blood and bones of it. You _invited_ your devil in - same as I did. _Oz_ is the only innocent here and don't think the fucking _soldiers_ didn't beat it out of him!" He lifted Xander a few inches and slammed him back and Xander's hands scrabbled futilely at him, scratching his cheek and snagging his sweater. "Keep your bloody sympathy and your fucking _morality_ and don't you _dare_ try to pretend you're better than me, rabbit, don't _ever_." Spike slammed him back again one more time and then dropped him; stalked away to the cabinet and poured a shot with a hand that _shook._

_*Fucking boy, fucking **bastard**.*_ Spike wasn't sure why he was so angry but he _was_. It boiled in him like a hive of bees, like a seething nest of snakes, and he could feel every sting and every strike of poisoned fangs. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Xander slide down the wall, crumple into a heap and tuck down into himself, his head in his hands, his fingers clawing his hair. Spike could smell the misery, the tears, and he wanted to _hurt_ Xander. He drank the whiskey in his glass in a gulp, poured more and drank it down and then hurled the glass into the wall, shattering it practically into dust.

A tiny moan of fear from Xander and he stalked back over, crouched down beside him. The disconnect of the bad times, the maddening strobe of the lights tried to crowd in on him, bringing the noises of the Pit with it in a wash of jangling static. Spike forced it back _hard_ ; sucked his bleeding lip and watched Xander's shoulders jerk in ill-concealed shudders as he struggled for his own control.

" _Rabbit_. Don't do that, rabbit. Don't try and challenge me." Spike lifted his hand and reached out; hesitated for a moment and then let his fingers rest lightly on the bowed curve of Xander's neck. Xander flinched hard, his head coming up sharply. His face was wet and he'd bitten his own lip through and Spike stared at the smear of crimson blood, at the dull-silver tracks of tears.

"Don't say that, please d-don't say that. N-not a devil, not.... I was just - just so fucking _lonely!_ Spike, I was so lonely...." Xander wiped impatiently at his face, the backs of his hands smearing the tears and the blood, sniffing. "I had a _family_ and I wasn't afraid, for the first time in so _long_ , but then they took it away from me! I c-couldn't stand it, I couldn't...couldn't...." He lurched to his knees and held his hands out, pleading, not quite daring to touch Spike and Spike rocked back a little on his heels, hissing. "And it's - it's lonely too, it's got n-nobody like it. Please, Spike, please -" Xander crept forward a few more inches and his fingertips touched Spike's knee, hot through the denim.

"I don't...don't want to kill anyone. I don't. I c-can't, not _me_. But _it_ does, it _will_ , it...please, I don't want to do that." Xander drew in a ragged, hitching breath and choked - coughed. He wiped his eyes again, staring at Spike, and Spike finally pushed the demon away, taking a breath himself. "I can't not be human, I can't. If I'm not human I'll let it _out_ , Spike, let it...go. I can't do that - please help me not do that, please, please...."

Xander leaned forward until his forehead touched Spike's knees and then he simply lay there, struggling to slow his breathing, trembling so hard his teeth were chattering. Spike looked down at the bowed head, at the sweep of silken hair and pale bow of his neck, at the blood-smeared hand that was clutching his sleeve. He took another deep breath and sighed; eased slowly forward until he was kneeling as well, and pulled Xander half onto his lap, gathered him close and tucked the dark head up under his chin.

"Now love, shhhhh.... Shhhh, rabbit. You can't be afraid of your own soul, pet, you can't do that. Can't be afraid of your heart. That'll kill you, love - that'll make you crazy as my Dru." He stroked his hand in hard, firm sweeps up and down Xander's back, feeling himself rocking his boy, just a little. Xander shivered against him, hands clutching around his ribs as tightly as he could. "When Oz is well we'll talk to him - he can teach you, yeah? Show you that headspace. Once you get in there, you can do anything. We'll learn how to keep your beast under control, yeah? Learn just like he did, love, then you'll be all right, then you'll be fine...shhhhh." He pressed his lips to Xander's hair - pulled him a little closer and Xander sighed out a shuddery breath.

"I don't know - all that stuff. You and Oz know so many...words. I don't have any."

"Now that's not so, pet. You've that song you sang to me, yeah? Songs are easy. And we can find stories for you, rabbit. Listen, here's one for you about El-ahrairah and the god Frith. King of all Rabbits, yeah? Listen, now." Spike closed his eyes and thought, bringing the story back from some long-ago time and place, and murmured it in Xander's ear. As he talked, Xander gradually calmed and uncoiled, and they stretched out on the rug there, Xander's head on his shoulder and Spike's arms loosely around his waist, the words of the Story of the Blessing of El-ahrairah weaving a kind of calm.

 

_"Then," said Dandelion, "Frith felt himself in friendship with El-ahrairah, who would not give up even when he thought the fox and the weasel were coming. And he said, ''Very well, I will bless your bottom as it sticks out of the hole. Bottom, be strength and warning and speed forever and save the life of your master. Be it so!'_

_And as he spoke, El-ahrairah's tail grew shining white and flashed like a star: and his back legs grew long and powerful and he thumped the hillside until the very beetles fell off the grass stems. He came out of the hole and tore across the hill faster than any creature in the world. And Frith called after him, 'El-ahrairah, your people cannot rule the world, for I will not have it so. All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.'_

_And El-ahrairah knew then that although he would not be mocked, yet Frith was his friend. And every evening, when Frith has done his day's work and lies calm and easy in the red sky, El-ahrairah and his children and his children's children come out of their holes and feed and play in his sight, for they are his friends and he has promised them that they can never be destroyed."_

Hours later, Xander was asleep and Spike was simply lying there, softly petting his hair, when Wrxl called to tell them it was done, and Oz would be waking up soon.

 

 

_*He looks so small....*_ Spike rested on hip on the edge of the gurney, watching Oz wake up. The werewolf was lying on his back, nude under a light sheet and for once he looked - relaxed. Xander was on the other side of the gurney, carefully holding Oz's hand, trembling with suppressed emotion and the strain of not moving. Oz shifted on the gurney and made a small noise. His eyes came open a crack and then squinted immediately shut, and Spike turned his head to Wrxl who was standing by the door.

"Can you make it dimmer in here, Wrxl? I think it's too bright."

"Oh! Of course, of course -" Wrxl limped to a panel on the other side of the doorway and did something, and the lights dimmed down to a bluish glow, like being underwater.

"Oz? He turned the lights down - want to try that again?" Xander said, and Oz frowned a little - slowly opened his eyes. This time they stayed open, and he blinked several times, looking at Xander and then at Spike.

"Did it work?" he rasped out, and Spike grinned at him.

"Worked a treat, wolf. Look." Spike held his hand up, and between his thumb and finger was a small square of dull green and gold - plastic and metal. The chip. Oz stared at it - blinked once and the tears that had pooled in his eyes welled over and ran down the sides of his face.

"It's okay -" Xander whispered, and he leaned forward and wiped at Oz's temple - cupped his hand around Oz's cheek, stroking gently. "It's okay, Oz, it's out. You're - you can start getting better now."

"C-can you crush it? Smash it, Spike - please just -" Oz bit his lip, the tears slipping down and down, and Spike pinched the chip slowly - watched with relief as the plastic shattered and the gold-traced circuits crumpled. He ground it in his fingers until it was only shards and crumbles and then tossed it down on the floor.

"Gone now, wolf. Done."

Oz nodded, taking a hard, shuddering breath. He pushed at the bed and Xander slipped an arm behind him, helping him sit up. "Thanks." Oz rested there for a minute, eyes shut, his fingers curled into Xander's shirt. Xander just held him, rubbing one hand slowly up and down his back, still holding Oz's other hand in his. "I need to change, Xander. I - need to change." Oz's eyes came open again, and he was looking up at the boy.

Xander straightened a little, looking back. "Yeah, okay. What - should we do something?"

"No. Just - back off a little. I don't really know how I'll react. Okay?"

"Okay," Xander said, and slipped free of Oz - went slowly toward the door. Spike slid off the gurney and reached out, gently stroked his fingers over Oz's cheek and mouth.

"Need anything, wolf?" he asked, Oz's lips warm under his hand. Oz just shook his head and Spike backed off as well - leaned in the doorway with Xander, hip and thigh brushing. Wrxl had shuffled himself out into the hall, leaning wearily on his cane. Oz took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, they were black, and suddenly the transformation began. Spike watched, fascinated, as Oz's body lengthened and twisted, shortened and bowed and arched. Hair sprouted and coiled out and suddenly there was less Oz and more wolf and then no Oz at all.

A wolf stood on the gurney; thick, russet mane, black paws and forelegs and heavy fringed tail. The slender muzzle swung around, pointing to them, and the wolf scented the air. After a moment's hesitation it leapt down, wobbling just a little. Spike could see that the thick fur was dull - the arch of the belly too high, too thin. The wolf walked slowly to them and lifted its head and sniffed, nudging Xander's hand with his nose. The wolf's shoulders came just to the top of Xander's thigh, and Spike had never realized how massive he truly was. The wolf's tail wagged slowly and Xander crouched down and hugged him around his heavy, muscled neck - buried his face in the snarled fur.

"Oz, God...I'm so glad...." Xander sniffed, wiping his face on fur and Oz pushed his nose into Xander's shoulder - into his cheek. Then he was backing away, disengaging himself. "Oz?" The wolf made a low, pained sort of sound, scrabbled backward a few more feet and then he hunched, body rippling, retching. He heaved up a stinking mess of black-tarnished silver, strung with bile and blood. Xander stood up fast, taking a step towards the wolf and Spike grabbed his arm.

"Don't, rabbit. He's just getting rid of the poison. It's all right. I did that, too."

"Yeah?" Xander's eyes were wide and fearful, but he relaxed into Spike's hold, didn't protest when Spike pulled him a little closer, relishing the heat all along his left side. They watched as Oz vomited twice more and then Mir came hesitantly into the room, carrying a large bowl of fresh water. She put it carefully on the floor and Oz went straight to it; drank thirstily until the bowl was nearly empty. He looked up at Mir and ducked his head, wordless thanks. Mir nodded, her whiskers coming forward and then going back, offended by the stink of the poison. Oz - _shifted_ \- and he was half-wolf and half himself, wide-eyed.

"I can feel it...me...wanting out. I n-need...." His voice trailed off, hoarse. He walked forward unsteadily and stopped a few feet from Spike and Xander. "I need to run, Spike. Let me out so I can.... I need to get _out_."

"Course you do, wolf. Come on. You know how to get to the flat? I'll leave someone up there to let you in, yeah? You can stay out all day, if you like."

"Yeah," Oz rasped, and Spike tugged Xander away, led Oz out, passing Wrxl who nodded in silent dignity to Oz's clumsy clasp of his hand. "Thank you," Oz whispered, and Wrxl's whiskers swept forward, back, forward again, quivering.

"Not at all, my dear boy, not at all. Mind you come see me tomorrow, soon as you can."

"I'll get him here, Wrxl. You're a bloody miracle worker," Spike said, keeping Xander moving, keeping Oz going until they came to the top of the stairs. They crossed a small lobby and Spike pushed the door open, letting in a swirl of wet, chilly air. The temperature had risen just a bit and the snow was melting. The air was thick with fog - cold, clammy and wonderfully full of scents and Oz lifted his head, drawing in great lungfuls of air. He dropped to his hands - _paws_ \- changing as he went and the wolf stood there. His ears were up, cocked alertly forward, and his mouth was partly open, tasting as well as scenting. He lifted his head and regarded the two of them, and then he turned his head higher, opened his mouth and let out a full-throated howl. The eerie ululation rang of the buildings, echoed down the canyon of steel and concrete and glass and Spike grinned. Xander laughed aloud, scrubbing his hands hard through the fur of Oz's back and sides and Oz nipped playfully at him, bounced in a circle around them. 

"Be careful, Oz, okay? Careful." Xander said, and Oz pushed his muzzle into Xander's chest. Then he turned and _ran_ , faster almost than they could follow. In minutes the sleek russet form was out of view. Xander stood staring after him for a little longer, and then he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and turned to Spike, shaky smile on his face.

"God. He looked - really good. He...looked happy."

"Did at that, rabbit."

"Fucking _worked_ ," Xander murmured, and Spike bumped him gently with his shoulder. 

"Wrxl's bloody brilliant." Spike fished in a pocket for his cell, flipped it open and speed-dialed Tod. "Tod - yeah. Wolf's out and about. Get somebody over to the flat. I need somebody who can wait outside for him, let him in. _No_ , he can't do it himself, he's a _wolf_. Just have somebody up there. I'll be home by and by but he might stay out later. Right." Spike snapped the phone shut, shoved it away and came up with a cigarette and his lighter next. The clouds were still an iron-grey, low and heavy with moisture and the sidewalk was a morass of half-melted snow and slush and puddles. Water dripped all around, like an intermittent rain. The sun wouldn't be up for another couple of hours - it was nearing five - and Spike felt...restless.

"Want to go home, rabbit?" he asked, and Xander shook his head, tipped his head back and took a deep breath much like Oz.

"It smells good. Can we walk down to the water? Go down on the piers? There's some places open, we could get breakfast." He smiled over at Spike, an uncomplicated, happy smile, and Spike felt something in his chest twist, just a little. Open and stretch, gratefully.

"Sure, pet. Anything you want." Spike smiled back, took a long puff off his cigarette and reached out,   
snagging Xander's hand with his. They turned and started walking towards the Sound, towards the area around the fish markets. Working folk had been up already for an hour or more, and there were plenty of places that catered to them. In fact, Spike remembered a place as they walked - 13 Coins on Boren - and they slowly made their way there, watching the gulls dive and dart along the edge of the water. Turning uphill, heading away from the water again, a stiff breeze at their back carrying the briny, rotten wood and fish scent far inland.

"Can you swim? Have you ever gone swimming here?" Xander asked suddenly, and Spike looked over at him, feeling his eyebrow going up.

"Well, not _here_ ; a bit dirty and a bit crowded for my tastes. Been in out by Point Defiance, places like that. It's cold, though."

"Yeah." Xander walked on a few more steps, his hand tight in Spike's, his shoulder just bumping and brushing a little. "I miss that - miss swimming. My Uncle Rory...." he trailed off into silence and Spike bumped him again.

"Your Uncle what, rabbit?"

"Oh -" Xander shook his head, flicked his hair back from his face, hunching into his coat, his free hand deep in his pocket. 

_*Still needs some decent gloves, damnit….*_ Spike thought vaguely.

"I used to go stay with my uncle in the summer, go live at his house. My mom didn't want me around if I wasn't in school, she said I got underfoot. So I'd go stay with him. He had this old house near Carmel.... It was fuckin' junk - falling apart. But I liked it. We'd go swimming, go fishing...." Xander fell silent, and Spike reflected that that was the first time he'd heard anything about the boy's past. He didn't know what to say to it, though. His own father would have been scandalized to go swimming, 'nearly nude' on a public beach, and had considered fishing a useless pastime. Since Dru…. Such outdoor activities had paled. Spike settled for squeezing Xander's hand, just a little, and Xander glanced over at him, quick smile. "It was nice," he said quietly.

"Course it was, rabbit." Spike tossed his cigarette butt into the gutter and pointed with their joined hands. "There's our stop, you go in and get us a table, yeah? Sit up at the bar, maybe, watch 'em cook our meal. I just need some smokes." There was a small market on the corner; Asian characters daubed across the windows and a row of bright-red vending machines just inside the door. Xander nodded and strode briskly up the sidewalk, slipped inside the restaurant.

Spike grinned and went into the market, eyeing the squat machines in the vestibule. He saw what he wanted and reached out, grasped the top and gave it a wrench. The heavy metal lid screeched in protest and then the plastic cage full of little clear containers split and the whole thing shivered, falling apart. Spike dropped the lid and pawed through the junk, finally spotted what he wanted and snatched it up in triumph. A slim, dark-haired woman burst through the second set of doors, yelling something rapidly in Vietnamese - or maybe Tagalog - and Spike snarled, flashing fangs. She yelped and spun around - _ran_ \- and Spike laughed, sauntering out, kicking the plastic bubbles away or crunching them under foot.

 

Something was cooking in a welter of tall flames on the grill and Xander was sitting at the wooden bar, idly twisting back and forth on a stool, his jacket under him and his flannel shirt flapping open, intently studying a menu. The air was warm and steamy; full of the good smells of coffee and steak and eggs and seafood. Spike slipped his duster off and folded it onto an empty stool, climbed up beside Xander.

"What're you getting, rabbit?" Spike asked, and Xander shook his head slowly.

"Dunno. They've got a lot of good stuff...and some bad. Chicken-liver omelets. That's just...wrong." Xander shuddered slightly.

"Never did care for pate myself," Spike said, getting his own menu and studying it. A waitress came up and poured out coffee and Spike watched in amusement as Xander heavily doctored his with cream and sugar. "Why bother with coffee, pet? Why not just get hot chocolate?"

Xander shrugged, sipping carefully at his still-steaming drink. "It tastes kinda like caramel, like this. I like it." 

"Hmmm..." Spike leaned over and pushed the mug away from Xander's mouth, slipping his right hand into the silky hair at the nape of Xander's neck and kissing him slowly. "You're right," he murmured, pulling back just a bit. "It _does_ taste like caramel." Xander blinked at him, dazed, and then smirked, and Spike straightened up as their waitress came back. Xander ordered a crab omelet, Spike steak and pan-fried oysters. He debated getting wine from their bar but decided against it, preferring to wait and have a shot of his own good whiskey at home instead. The food was _good_ , and plentiful, and Xander ended up getting a piece of Black Forest cake to take home.

"Oz used to like this stuff, before he got sick. He might want some," Xander said, folding the top of the bag down carefully. Spike smoothed the long hair back from his boy's face, running his thumb lightly under Xander's lower lip.

"Maybe he will, rabbit. C'mon, time to be going home." There was a pearl-grey glow to the clouds now - the sun somewhere above the horizon, but not very far. Spike rolled his shoulders against the twitchy feeling that came over him. Even though he was safe, his demon was nervous. They headed home, walking briskly. The sidewalks were all puddled now, glinting dully in the growing light, and Xander stomped through a couple with a small grin on his face. They paused at a corner, waiting for the traffic to thin and Spike felt over the little plastic bubble in his pocket, took it out finally, and pried the top off.

"Here, rabbit - I got you something. Lift your hair up." Xander turned surprised and suspicious eyes on him but his hands were already going up to lift his hair and bare his neck, the cake tucked into his pocket.

"What is it?" he asked, and Spike moved behind him, bringing his hands down in front of Xander. He was holding a cheap choker-style necklace - fifty cents in the machine - made of five strands of rolled, black leather thong. There was a sort of chevron-shape in silver-colored metal in the middle, with five long silver-colored beads - one per strand - flanking it on either side. It looked vaguely American Indian, which Spike thought suited Xander's dark eyes and hair.

"What - 'v' for vampire?" Xander asked, but his voice sounded strained as Spike wrapped the choker around his neck. It fastened with an odd little clasp in the back, a kind of tongue and slot affair that made it fit smoothly. Spike clicked it shut and then ran his fingers over the strands. The black leather looked good against Xander's pale skin, against the curve of his throat, and Spike leaned in and kissed him just _there_. Edge of leather and skin, both scents mingling in his nose, across his tongue. Xander shivered, twitching slightly away and lowering his hands. His hair fell silkily across Spike's face and Spike slid his arms around Xander and pulled him back tight, just nuzzling in close, tasting and kissing and nipping at half-healed bite marks.

"You taste so good, rabbit, smell so good...." Burnt-sugar caramel smell, salt and the honey-musk of the hyena. Something earthy and something slightly bitter, like almonds. Xander sighed in his arms, leaning back and tilting his head over, but then he twitched and twisted away; turned to face Spike, still in the circle of his arms but tense, now, eyes narrow.

"What is this? You gave me a - collar."

"You needed something to show you belong to me, pet."

The boy's lip lifted in a half-hearted snarl and he pushed against Spike's chest, rigid. "I don't _belong_ -"

"Yes you do, rabbit. We _talked_ about this, yeah? _You_ belong to _me_. And everybody knows it, but now it's more...obvious."

Xander was panting just a little; obviously angry, but something else, too. Fear maybe, or maybe sorrow. It was hard to tell.

"I'm not a _pet_. You don't get to say that, Spike! I'm not some - dumb animal!"

"You're a human with a beast inside. Ever think you might need a collar and leash some days? Keep you from doing something...nasty?" Xander froze for a long moment, and then he shoved Spike violently away, managing to get a foot or so between them before Spike snatched him back, fists in the lapels of Xander's pea-coat and a thigh between his legs. Someone hurrying by gave them a strange look, but Spike ignored them.

" _Fuck_ you, Spike - you said you'd help me! You said you and Oz could - show me how to do that - headspace, that...." Xander's hands were flat on Spike's chest, his nails digging through the thin sweater, his eyes getting that _look_ in them that said the hyena wasn't far. "Don't tell me I'm _dangerous!_ You're just - just trying to scare me, you're just -"

Spike snarled, letting the demon flash up for a moment and then shoving it away, not wanting to attract _that_ much attention from the early-commute traffic. "Got a hundred better ways to scare you, rabbit, don't need to tell _lies_." _*But that **does** scare you, and you need to learn to hide that. Safe enough with me, but others won't be so careful of the cracks in your armor.*_

Spike shook the boy a little - got his face inches from Xander's, knowing his eyes were demon-gold. "Don't think you're just gonna lock it away in a box and it'll be all over, rabbit. Doesn't work that way." Abruptly he let go - backed off. Smoothed the front of Xander's coat and buttoned the top button, turned the collar up a little.

"You need a hat, rabbit, and gloves. And a scarf, too. Something nice and soft." Xander was off-balance and could only stare at him, his chest still heaving in angry pants, his hands clenching tight. Spike stepped up close again but this time he wound his arms around Xander's waist and pressed them gently together - feathered soft kisses over his mouth and cheeks and nose. "Promised I'd help you, love. I won't let you get hurt, won't let you _do_ any hurting that you don't want to do." Spike let his hand slide up Xander's back and rub a little over the leather around his neck, making Xander aware of it again.

"This is just...to remind you. Help you remember I'm here, all the time. Keep your mind on things, yeah? Won't let you go, rabbit - not ever." Xander looked so lost, now - dazed and unhappy and Spike kissed him again, slow and deep and sweet as he could. 

Xander stood still against him, but then he slowly kissed back, his hands creeping under Spike's duster and gripping over Spike's ribs, thumbs rubbing up and down over the ridges of them just under Spike's pectorals. He pulled back and ducked his head - looked at Spike, his eyes dark again, showing weariness and confusion. "Ss-pike? Why do you -?"

"Shhh, rabbit. Not a question for here, yeah? Let's get home, wait for the wolf. You're cold, pet." Spike watched Xander struggle with that and then let it go, and Spike touched the choker again. "I could get you one that never comes off, rabbit. One that locks and doesn't have a key. Would you like that?" Xander's eyes went wide and for a moment there was something _there_. Some dark thing that leaped and burned, and Spike thought he just might say yes. But then Xander shook his head, and the corner of his mouth curled up a little, wry smile.

"No. _Jesus_ , Spike. Let me...get used to one that comes off. Promise you'll - teach me?"

"Promise, love. We'll work on it same as we will your fighting. Just takes practice."

"And reading, and memorizing," Xander grumbled, letting Spike turn him and get them walking again, letting Spike take his hand and lace their fingers together, oblivious to some in the morning crowd who stared or scowled.

"You remember songs, rabbit. It's not so hard." Xander shot him a look from under a fall of hair but then he was lifting his head, tossing his hair back and straightening his shoulders - _humming_ to himself with a small smile on his face. Spike recognized the tune and he grinned when the words were whispered to the sweet-salty air.

_'In the clearing stands a boxer_   
_And a fighter by his trade_   
_And he carries the reminders_   
_Of ev'ry glove that layed him down_   
_Or cut him 'til he cried out_   
_In his anger and his shame:_   
_"I am leaving, I am leaving!"_   
_But the fighter still remains…'_

 

 

Oz didn't come back that day. Xander fell asleep, exhausted, around eleven a.m., and Spike soon followed, curling up behind him in the bed, burying his nose in leather and sweet-smell; tasting it on his tongue. Tod calling around five woke them both and Spike talked to Viv. Found out they were _both_ off work until Oz came back and they were sure he was all right. An indulgence Spike viewed mistrustfully, but he knew Xander wouldn't go to the club unless he knew Oz was safe, and Spike didn't want to leave him waiting alone.

_*Might do something foolish, our rabbit. Might think he has to go out and find the wolf.... Might get himself into a lot of trouble.*_

So Spike sulkily agreed not to come in, and rang off with Viv's too-complacent chuckle in his head. _*Old bitch's got something up her sleeve. Have to watch her.*_ Xander showered and dressed and moped around - finally dug out some of the food one of Tod's boys had got and started cooking. Spike sat on the kitchen counter and smoked and watched, bemused, while Xander assembled something like a real dinner and drank orange juice.

"Where'd you learn to do that, rabbit? Don't most your age just...microwave something?" Spike tapped ash into the sink and grinned as Xander rescued the mushrooms he'd been draining. 

"That's my fuckin' dinner, not your ashtray, you jerk." Xander rinsed the mushrooms off and put them in the other side of the sink. "My dad was a drunk. Spent most of his time mooching around different bars and doing half-assed carpentry for booze money. My mom had to work and she got home late a lot so I started doing the cooking. It was that or live on Ramen noodles." Xander raggedly chopped the mushrooms into smaller pieces and added them to the bowl that already held hamburger and diced peppers and onion and bread crumbs and an egg. He stuck both hands in and started mixing. It looked...weird, and a bit like innards and Spike couldn't imagine what it was.

"So - what _is_ it?" Spike asked finally as Xander washed his hands. The boy rolled his eyes, pushing his creation into the oven. 

"It's _meatloaf_. Perfect food. Have it hot for dinner and then you've got leftovers for days for sandwiches." He washed and cubed up some potatoes and put them to boil, then wiped his hands and came to lean by Spike. "Now - one hour, and dinner!"

"Seems like a lot of work to me," Spike mumbled, tugging at the boy until he was between Spike's thighs. Xander leaned back against him and Spike tossed his cigarette butt into the sink and wound his arms around Xander's ribs, tucking his hands into the heat under Xander's arms and his face into the warm and slightly sweaty crook of Xander's neck. "But it makes you smell good...taste good." Spike spent some time slowly kissing his way around Xander's neck, tracing the edge of the choker and slowly, slowly stroking ribs and chest, belly and shoulders. Xander just closed his eyes, hands on Spike's thighs, fingers kneading into the muscles there. 

"Do you think...Oz is okay?" Xander asked softly, and Spike gently turned him around, scooted forward and tugged Xander closer so they were pressed tight together.

"Wolf's fine, rabbit. He just needs to - be the wolf, you know? Run off some hate. Maybe take down a soldier or two, who knows?" Spike went back to his slow exploration of Xander's neck and Xander slid his hands up under the too-large Oxford shirt Spike had donned for warmth. 

"He doesn't want to kill anybody. He won't - do that," Xander murmured, and Spike made a noncommittal noise, too busy tracking the elevated heartbeat and rising scents of musk and arousal from Xander. He slid his hands up, to frame Xander's face and tangle in his hair.

"He _won't_ ," Xander insisted, pushing Spike back a little.

Spike growled and yanked the boy close again. "Don't actually care, rabbit. He can slaughter half Seattle if he likes, not my business. Hush." Spike's thumbs were on Xander's jaw and he pressed in, making Xander wince, making him open his mouth a little and Spike let his tongue lick slowly inside, taste of oranges and mint, taste of green pepper. Xander resisted for a moment and then was leaning heavily against Spike, kissing back, his nails scraping slowly up and down Spike's spine. Another few minutes and Xander slowly pulled away, his hand tracing a pattern over Spike's chest in the deep 'v' of the half-open shirt. 

"Why do you do that? Why do you - assume he'll do something...bad?" Spike looked at the boy, seeing the genuine puzzlement in his eyes, but more interested in the red mouth and fast-beating heart. 

"Nature of the beast, rabbit. The wolf doesn't care about humans, you heard what he said. Said he'd turn half the city, take over the north." Xander looked puzzled for a moment and then his expression closed - his eyes shuttered and he stiffened away.

"You were listening to us."

"In my house, weren't you?" Spike remembered what the wolf and Xander had said, and after a moment it was obvious that Xander did, too. He started to pull away and Spike stopped him. "I _know_ what you want, what your beast wants. Want's _me_. And you do too." Spike's finger traced the edge of the choker and Xander shivered. 

"I don't - "

"Yes you _do_ , rabbit." Spike slipped his hand behind Xander's head and tugged him in close again but Xander pushed away, wrenched himself out of Spike's hold and his reach and paced to the far side of the kitchen - stood there, hunched and shaking.

_*Scared of it, aren't you rabbit? Scared of wanting to be mine. Scared of losing something. Just your soul, sweetheart. But you don't need that, anyway.*_

"You don't.... You want to own me," Xander said finally, his own fingers touching the leather strands and Spike slid down off the counter and walked to him, reached out to gently cup Xander's cheek, his fingertips rubbing behind the boy's ear. 

"You want to be owned, love. You want someone to choose _you. Keep_ you. You want to belong so you can rest, love, so you can stop fighting." Xander looked up at him, and his eyes were so huge in his thin face, so lost. "No fear, if you're mine, rabbit. Never again. I keep what's mine forever."

"But I don't -" Xander sighed and closed his eyes, pushed into Spikes hand for a moment and then walked away. He linked his hands behind his head and paced over to the far corner where the second bed was, silent and hunched, and Spike let him go, let him think. _*Not getting away, rabbit. But it's better if you come 'round on your own.*_

By two in the morning Xander hadn't said another word and Oz was still gone. Spike locked the boy in for an hour and went hunting, and when he got back Xander was asleep again, curled into a corner of the couch, still dressed. Spike let him be, and showered and went to his own bed.

 

The second day was tense. Xander was jumpy and snappish - didn't want to be touched and didn't want to talk and Spike rapidly lost patience with him. Finally, when Xander had snarled an umpteenth sullen _'fuck off '_ Spike snapped and backhanded him.

"Get your coat, rabbit, we're going out," he barked, going for his own coat.

Xander glared at him, eyes wild. " _I'm_ not. Oz -" 

Spike turned and paced back to him, five long, rapid steps and grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, yanking him close and letting the demon snarl into his face. "Don't fucking _question_ me, boy. We're going _out_."

Xander growled and swung and Spike hit him again, knocking him back several stumbling steps - making his lip bleed. "Want more, rabbit? Don’t fucking _push_ me!" Xander's eyes flashed green fire but he went, quivering with anger, and got on his coat and boots. Spike called Tod, told him to have someone on the door and then strode out, not bothering to check that Xander was following. They rode the elevator in silence, strode through the blue-glass dusk to O'Shea's Gym.

Xander balked at the door, scowling. "I don't want -"

 

"I don't _give_ a fuck. You'll get your arse in there or you'll regret it, rabbit, hear me?" Spike was _that close_ to knocking him unconscious; the fear-worry-anger that had been rolling off the boy all day was driving him slowly up a wall. Xander glared and then stomped in, cursing under his breath. The O'Shea behind the counter, a taller, older version of the gypsy-looking boy from the first time, nodded in silence and took their coats, nodded again when Spike told him about the phone.

Xander loitered near the door as if he'd bolt at a moment's notice and Spike grabbed his arm and hauled him into the changing room. "Fuck _off_ , Spike! You don't _own_ me and you can't fucking _make_ me -"

Spike's patience snapped and he lunged at Xander, the demon growling like a lion, Spike's hands flat on Xander's chest. The back of Xander's head rang off a locker and a human changing half-way down the row shuffled hastily around the corner. Spike held Xander against the metal doors, fists in Xander's shirt and knee in his balls, _hurting_ him and not caring.

"You'll do what I _tell_ you, little rabbit, or I'll whip you so hard you won't be able to wear clothes for a week. Fucking _understand?_ " For one long moment Xander stared at him, panting, a line of pain between his brows. And Spike thought, _*Will you or won't you, rabbit? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, come and join the dance….*_

And then that suicide light sprang up in his eyes and it was the hyena, Spike could see it quite clearly. Xander _spit_ at the same moment his hand - the push-knife sprouting from between his knuckles - came up, deadly fast. Spike felt the acid-hot burn of the little blade and the demon roared in fury. Spike's vision went black-edged and sharply delineated - almost colorless - and the only thing he could hear was Xander's heartbeat and his wordless, shrieking cries.

Spike came to himself with Xander pinned underneath him, the boy's eyes rolling back white, his shirt gone and blood on his chest. The push-knife had clattered to the concrete somewhere and Spike knelt astride Xander's belly, his hands sunk deep into biceps, blood on his nails. Xander was gasping for air, clawing at Spike's arms and growling - kicking. Spike let his arms go and grabbed two hands-full of hair - rapped Xander's head sharply against the floor.

" _Stop_ it, rabbit! Stop it."

"Get off, get off, _get off!_ "

"When you behave!"

Xander arched under him, hard, fighting to unseat him and Spike bared his fangs, ready to sink them into Xander's throat. _*Don't, rabbit, don't, don't, **don't**!*_ Xander thrashed for another few moments and then suddenly was still, panting. Spike looked down at him and the hyena stared up.

"Let me up," he rasped, and Spike uncoiled, on his feet and backing off in one smooth movement. "Going to _kill_ you," Xander breathed, gaze never leaving Spike's and Spike grinned; lifted a hand to his mouth and licked the blood off the tips of his fingers. 

"You reckon so, rabbit?"

"Reckon, Spike. Fuck yeah." Xander stood also, a movement oiled and graceful and they both stalked out to the gym proper. All the rings were empty, the gym itself seemed to have emptied except for the O'Shea at the door and Hedge, who'd come out of his little cage in the changing room. 

"Better not kill him," the O'Shea called, and Spike swung his head, staring for a moment before focusing on Xander again. Promise made in that momentary glance and the man settled back behind his counter. Xander yanked off boots and socks and then, surprising Spike, jeans, and climbed naked into the ring. There were two cuts on his chest, shallow and bleeding, and scrapes and bruises up his arms and across his shoulders. The cut across Spike's ribs was deeper but knitting already, and his own bruises were minimal. He stripped as well and then was in the ring and Xander stood there, arms loose at his sides and his hands flexing slowly. Hyena in his eyes and in his scent; half-hard and grinning like a skull. And then he launched himself, shrieking out a challenge, and Spike roared and met him head-on.

 

It took almost two hours for Spike to beat him down to stillness, to make the hyena go. He collapsed next to Xander in a graceless heap, panting, his whole body singing with pain. They were both covered in blood and bruises, and Spike was pretty sure a cracked rib or two for Xander. Left eye swollen shut, lips split and bleeding, Xander lay on his side and gagged for air, his hands moving spasmodically on the canvas. Spike felt stiffness and swelling in his own face, and Xander had bit him, ripped flesh from his shoulder. But he was _back_ , back to himself, and Spike just sat there, exhausted. 

After several minutes Hedge shuffled up to them, looking in an enquiring way at them and Spike nodded warily, staggered to his feet and hauled Xander upright. The boy gasped sharply, hunching over, and Spike belatedly noticed the clawed gashes on his own thighs and the gouges on Xander's back.

"C'mon, rabbit. Let's go get clean and see Robbie. He'll fix us right up." Xander made a low, tearing sort of moaning noise as Spike eased him out of the ring and into Hedge's arms. Spike climbed slowly out and took Xander back, half carrying him, both of them unsteady on their feet. Hedge got a shower going, turning it up hot. Xander whined in pain as the water beat down and tried to pull away but Spike pushed him into the wall and held him, sluiced the majority of the blood off of them both, gritting his teeth at the ferocious sting of the hot water on his own hurts.

Xander was shaking now, his teeth chattering as shock set in and Spike hauled him up and got Xander's arm over his shoulder and walked him to the small room by the sauna. It was warm in there, residual heat from the steam next door, and paneled in thick, honey-colored wood. The floor was layered with rugs and a thick, soft futon was on the floor. Spike eased Xander down onto his back and then settled above him. Xander was trying to curl up, trying to hold himself and Spike caught his hands.

"Ssssike...huurtssss."

"Shhh, love, I know. Robbie's here, he'll fix it. Almost there, love, shhhh...." Spike looked up as Robbie came in. Gaunt, palely greenish and possessed of a shock of wheat-gold hair that puffed out like a dandelion. Robbie was nearly seven feet tall, with unnaturally long fingers, toes, and nose. His teeth, when he smiled at Spike, were small and very sharp, like a fox's. Sin-eaters, demons called Robbie's kind, because they ate pain. Luckily, they _gave_ healing when they feasted.

Robbie looked at Spike with something like glee and then crouched down, all angles and bone. His began a slow, delicate stroking over Xander's body, his fingertips just touching and depressing the flesh. Xander gasped, going rigid, his fingers curling into Spike's so hard his nails cut Spike's palms. After a moment, though, he slowly relaxed and Spike watched as his breathing eased, as the ribs knit and the torn flesh sealed over. When nothing but fading bruises were left Robbie sat back and looked inquiringly up at Spike.

"Yesno, vampire?" he husked, and Spike nodded, letting go of Xander's hands. Robbie spent less time on Spike - he healed so much faster - and five minutes later he was settling himself into a corner, a contented little smile on his face. Xander pushed himself upright and staggered slowly out of the room, heading for the changing room. Spike snagged his arm and redirected him in to the sauna, spreading towels and making him lay down. Spike took Xander's head into his lap, slowly stroking his fingers through the still-bloody hair.

"Feel better, rabbit?" he asked, and Xander looked up at him, dazed-looking.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Spike."

"Yes you did, rabbit," Spike sighed, and Xander shook his head; clumsily sat up and scooted closer, one foot up on the bench, hugging his leg to his chest.

"No I _didn't_. But...it did. It wanted you _dead_. It wanted.... I don't - understand. I _don't_ want...."

"Love...." Spike sighed again, leaning back against the bench behind him, thinking. "You're fighting me, pet. Not sure what you want, just yet, are you? So _it_ has to fight, too. Protect you. If you stop fighting, it will too."

Xander stared at him - ducked his head down to rest his cheek on his knee, staring into nothing. "Spike?" he whispered, and his voice was tiny - was cracked and thick with some emotion and Spike reached out and petted him, smoothing and smoothing the tangled hair. 

"What is it, rabbit?"

"I'm scared. I'm scared...I can't - probably can't really kill _you_ but...I could kill a person, I could kill...anybody. I killed that soldier -"

"Oh no, no, love, no," Spike said and he pulled the boy close - pulled him into a tight embrace, tucking the dark head under his chin and wrapping himself around the shivering body. "That soldier doesn't count for anything but getting back your own, pet. They're hardly innocent, are they?" _*Can't do this for you, love. Can't make you be good. But I can keep you from doing what you don't want to do. The rest is for you to decide. Pretty boy… **my** boy….*_

Spike kissed Xander's temple and the crown of his skull, ran gentle fingers up and down his back. "I could stop you, rabbit, from anything the beast wanted to do that you _didn't_. But I can't make it go away. You invited it in, pet, now you have to learn to make it heel."

Xander's arms around him were squeezing almost painfully tight and he was breathing in sharp little gasps. "I want Oz. I want… _family_. But he won't..."

"No, he won't. But I will, rabbit."

Xander laughed, a broken sound, and pulled himself upright and away. His eyes were huge and wet, his hands trembling as they swept his clotted hair back from his face. "You don't love _me_ , Spike. You...don't love me and...and this is just...a f-fucking brand -" Xander's fingers plucked at the choker and Spike reached up and caught them - folded the callused hands in his.

"No. I told you, that's to remind you, is all -"

"Remind me that you - you want to - _own_ me, that I'm just -"

" _Rabbit_ -" Spike said, making Xander stop, squeezing his fingers just a little. "Nothing wrong with owned. Owned means _wanted_. Wanted more than anybody else. Wanted for always." 

Xander just stared at him - stared until his lip was trembling, just a little, and then he leaned slowly forward until he was resting against Spike, forehead to shoulder. "Really?"

"Really, love," Spike said. _*Mean what I say. Want you, love.*_ "Pretty rabbit...pretty, pretty little rabbit," he crooned softly, holding Xander tight. "Won't let you go, love. Won't."

 

Xander was quiet as they made their way home. It had rained during the day and almost all the snow was gone, but it was still breath-catching cold. The steady _drip drip_ from eaves and tree-limbs seemed to echo, and the streets were quiet. Spike was _hungry_ , and kept an eye out for something easy and filling, in no mood to hunt tonight.

As they headed west, the jingle of bells made Spike look around and he saw a men's clothiers up ahead. He reached out and took Xander's hand, pulling him through the door and ignoring his startled _'What?'_

"Good evening, can I help you?" The sales clerk was young and diffident, his eyes glued on their linked hands and Spike wanted to snarl. 

"My boy needs gloves and scarf and hat. Something nice. Cashmere, or mohair." 

"Oh, of course." The boy ushered them to a shelving unit and a selection of gear and Spike looked over and discarded several things, frowning.

"Ah, this is nice. What about this then, rabbit?" Spike yanked price tags off of a black knit cap and blood-red scarf, both cashmere and silky soft. He tugged the cap down over Xander's head and then looped the scarf around his neck, tucking it into his coat. "Now - that looks nice. Looks good with your hair."

Xander's fingers smoothed the scarf, rough skin catching on the fine weave. "It's nice," he murmured, but he was smiling.

"Right. Gloves, now. He needs leather, something lined."

"Right here -" The sales-clerk had hastily picked up the discarded tags and bustled over to another display. Five minutes of trying things on and Xander had nicely fitted leather gloves, lined in black and silver rabbit fur.

_*And that's appropriate, isn't it,*_ Spike thought, grinning. He was about to yank the little clerk over the counter and drain him - why pay for things when you didn't have to? - when he noticed the camera over the register, that was pointing pretty much at Xander. _*Don't want the filth thinking my boy did something. Don't want them **noticing** him...fuck.*_ Spike sighed and pulled a roll of money out of his pocket, peeled off a few bills and tossed them down. "Let's go, love, I'm a bit hungry," he said, and Xander's eyes went wide. He nodded and they strode out, ignoring the clerks frantic calls of 'your change!'

Xander was watching him now, as they walked along and Spike finally reached out and grabbed his gloved hand. "Make you feel better, pet, if _you_ picked out my dinner?"

Xander stopped walking. " _What?_ Are you _crazy?_ I don't want to - to - Fuck _no!_ "

"All right, then," Spike grumbled, and got Xander walking again with a jerk. 

"Do you - why do you have to _kill_ them? Can't you just take a little bit? I mean, isn't there -"

"Not a sodding _mosquito_ , rabbit. S'what I _eat_. Eat or die. Know how long it'd take if I just took a bit here and a bit there? I'd be doing it all night!" Xander looked miserable - turned his head away and watched the traffic with concentration, ignoring him, and Spike growled. There was a voice up ahead, getting louder, and Spike narrowed his eyes. Young man on a pay-phone, shouting at someone - girlfriend, sounded like. As they got closer Xander looked around, frowning at the man.

"I don't _care_ what you _think_ I said, you were _drunk!_ Now you wanna blame me and that's _bullshit!_...It's not even my _kid!_... Fuck that! ... I am _not_ the dad, and you can just fuck off if you think I'm gonna pay for you to kill it _or_ to keep it!" The man slammed the phone down, jerking around and pulling up short when he saw them. "Fucking _women_ ," he snarled.

"Jerk," Xander snapped, and the guy glared at him.

"Fuck you, too!" he snapped back, and Spike let go of Xander's hand and grabbed the man by the throat - slammed him up against the phone. He struggled wildly and Spike squeezed a little, making his eyes bulge. 

"What's your name, asshole?" he grated.

"W-w-wade!" the man gasped out. 

"Well, _Wade_ \- apologize to him before I crush your fucking trachea."

Wade's eyes rolled wildly and finally found Xander. "S-sssorry! Ssorry!"

"Yeah, okay," Xander muttered, and Spike changed to the demon. Wade shrieked, a rasping, tea-kettle sort of noise. The fear-scent was thick and heady and Spike didn't hesitate; he yanked the man's head over by a handful of hair and struck, drinking deep. After a few minutes he pulled away and held the limp body in his arms. Xander was looking sick, standing off to one side, huddled down into his coat.

"C'mere, rabbit," Spike sighed, and Xander approached hesitantly. "Here now, take off your glove -" Spike tugged the glove off gently and guided Xander's hand to the man's throat, held it there. After a moment Xander looked at him, puzzled.

"Is that…. He's not dead?"

"Not dead, rabbit. Happy?"

Xander just stared at him for a moment longer and then the sweetest, widest smile spread over his face, making his eyes sparkle. He leaned in close and kissed Spike and Spike let the body drop - gathered Xander close and kissed back. 

"Happy," Xander murmured, and they went slowly up the sidewalk, arms around each other's waists. After a minute or so, behind them, Spike heard tires squealing as the body was spotted. _*Need to be sure and hunt by myself, in the future,*_ Spike thought, and hugged Xander close.

 

 

Oz wasn't home again, wasn't home when they woke up the next evening and Spike felt a twinge of concern. Three days, two nights...he hoped the wolf hadn't gotten into any trouble, or run off. Spike watched Xander fidgeting on the couch. The wolf leaving without saying anything would….

_*It'd gut him. Better not, wolf. Don't do that to him...please don't do that to him.*_ Xander sighed and shifted - pushed his hand back through his hair and shifted again. He was holding a book, Spike's battered copy of _Watership Down_. Trying for a little fodder for headspace, getting some words, he said. But he didn't seem to be making much headway.

Spike watched him twitch, and pull at his shirt, watch him stand up and pace to the kitchen island and back, glaring down at the book, his hand crushing it in a death-grip. He was muttering under his breath. After five minutes of that Spike wanted to slap him. He got up from his sprawl on the bed and ambled over, flopping onto the couch.

"Christ, rabbit! How far are you?"

Xander jerked, looking sideways at him from behind strands of hair. "Ummm...page...t-twelve."

" _Twelve?_ It's been an hour, pet."

Xander just stared at him - hunched his shoulders and turned back to the book, looking unhappy. "M'just...worried about Oz," he muttered, turning to pace away.

" _Xander!_ " Spike snapped, and Xander froze - turned and glared at Spike.

" _What!_ " 

"C'mere, pet," Spike sighed, holding out his hand, and Xander reluctantly came to him; sat rigidly on the couch, kneading the book back and forth in his hands. "Stop that, now, you're ruining the binding. Here, turn to the first page," Spike said, and Xander did, slowly. "Now read it, pet. Start at the beginning. It's a good story, I don't mind hearing it again."

" _You_ read it, then!" Xander said, thrusting the book out at Spike, and Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Nooo…I told _you_ to, rabbit. Now read."

Xander's mouth compressed to a thin line and he slapped the book shut; smacked it down on the coffee table and shot to his feet. "Fuck you. I've got a headache -"

"No you _don't_ , rabbit," Spike snarled, and lunged for him, dragged him back down onto the couch. _Fear_ was coming off the boy, fear and misery and anger and Spike wanted to _know_. He slung a leg over Xander's legs and an arm around his ribs, snatched the book and thrust it into the boy's hands. " _Read it_." Xander surged up violently, the book dropping to the floor and Spike growled, yanked him back. "Don't make me hurt you, rabbit. Just do what you're told."

"Spike! Just - let me up, okay? Just - my _head_ -"

"You're _lying_ to me, pet, and I won't stand for that." Spike groped for the book and found it, shoved it back at him. Xander held it, hands shaking, panting a little. He was stiff in Spike's arms and Spike let him sit up a little. Watched as he slowly opened the book to the first chapter. "Go on then, pet. You can skip the title, there, and the poetry - never liked Agamemnon, anyway. Just start at the top of the paragraph, yeah?" 

Xander licked his lips, put a trembling finger to the first line of the book and started. His voice was a dull monotone and he read slowly, glancing often at Spike. "The p-primrosses wu-where over tow - tow-ards the - the - ee-nd of the wood where the grrr...gr-ound slipped down to an o-old f-feh...fehn...see -"

"Stop," Spike said, and Xander did, sat there with the book being slowly mangled in his hands, shaking like a leaf and - _crying_ now, silently. Spike listened to the ragged breaths that Xander was trying to muffle, watched him hunch down further and further, muscles rigid as he tried to still his heaving shoulders. "Rabbit -"

"Fucking _happy_ now? Now you know I'm too ss-stupid to _read_?" Xander started struggling to get away from him and Spike plucked the book out of his hands, tossed it on the coffee table and drew Xander in close, trapping his legs and arms, forcing him to turn and lean into Spike's chest. Xander fought him for a moment and then went limp, sobbing harshly into Spike's sweater, his fists clutching the thin weave and his whole body shaking with misery.

"Shhhh, pet, hush now...shhh…." Spike hugged him close, letting him cry. Resting his chin on Xander's hair and kissing, from time to time. Rubbing his back. After awhile the storm eased off and Xander pushed away.

"Need to blow my nose," he husked, and Spike let him go; watched him go into the bathroom and listened while he cleaned up, ran some water and washed and got a drink. He came out slowly, head down, face still flushed and his eyes red-rimmed. He stood there for a moment and Spike sat up, propping pillows behind his back and snagging the soft chenille throw from the back of the couch.

"C'mon back here, rabbit. Come on," he coaxed, and Xander finally shuffled over. Spike tugged him down between his legs, got him settled and covered them cozily with the throw. He put his arms around Xander's ribs and Xander leaned back against his shoulder. Spike kissed the warm cheek, rested his own cheek there, rocking the boy just a bit. 

"You graduate from school, then?" he asked, and Xander twitched a little. 

"Yeah...."

"How'd you do that, then, if you're so stupid?" 

Xander sat for a moment and then settled a little closer, rubbing his cheek against Spike's. "Willow used to read stuff to me so I could memorize it. She said they could fix it but my - my dad wouldn't let me go to the special classes. Said everybody'd know I was stupid for sure."

"Mmmm...." Spike kissed him again, turned his head a little and kissed his mouth; salt and cold water and faint taste of chocolate from dessert after dinner. "Willow was right, love," he murmured. He stretched out for the book and settled comfortably and opened it to the first chapter. "This is a story about rabbits, love. And how they fought bravely against their enemies and won against terrible odds. And there's poetry, although some of it's bad. Now...chapter one. _The Notice Board._ " 

Xander looked up at him, and his eyes were dark and shining - full of something so very soft and _happy_ , and Spike felt a shiver go all through him. _*Not stupid, my pretty rabbit, my beautiful boy. Not stupid.*_

_"The primroses were over. Toward the edge of the wood, where the ground became open and sloped down to an old fence and a brambly ditch beyond, only a few fading patches of pale yellow still showed among the dog's mercury and oak-tree roots. On the other side of the fence, the upper part of the field was full of rabbit holes…."_

 

 

The phone ringing woke Spike and he rolled, groping for it. Beside him, Xander made a complaining sort of noise and tucked himself into a tighter knot, hand reaching for Spike and bumping his spine - resting there, knuckles pressed into Spike's back.

"What the fuck -" Spike rasped, and coughed, got an elbow under himself and sat up a little.

"It's Tod. Your friend is here - the werewolf."

"Let him in," Spike said, sitting all the way up, kicking at the covers off his legs and swinging them off the bed. 

"He's got some - friends -"

"Let him _in_ ," Spike snapped, and clicked the phone off. He sat there for a moment, slumped over; slowly scrubbing his hands over his face and back through his hair. Sun wasn't down yet, but he smelled rain. _*Dark outside. Wolf, thank God....*_ Behind him, Xander stirred more strongly and Spike heard his heart kick up a notch when the elevator whirred to life out in the hall.

"Spike?"

"The wolf's come back, pet. Best get dressed." There was a moment's silence and then Xander was scrambling over the bed, pushing past Spike and heading for the wardrobe Spike had gotten in, half full of Xander's jumble-sale clothes and the wolf's abandoned things. _*Need to get him some new gear. Something nicer….*_ Spike thought, ignoring the demon's instant anger at Xander's excitement. _*Jealous as an old fox-hound, aren't you?*_

Spike watched Xander dress - jeans and tee and hoodie. Watched him stand there then, head to one side as he tracked the creaking, grumbling progress of the elevator. Spike pushed himself to his feet and found his jeans - pulled them on as the elevator ground to a halt. He found his cigarettes and lit one and leaned on the back of the couch. The door-latch creaked and moved up, and then the door was sliding back and...Oz. 

Sidling in, the cautious movements of a wary animal. He was naked, streaked with mud, leaves and tiny twigs tangled in his hair. Scratches down one thigh, and a bruise high up on his throat. Bite-mark. Behind him and around him - pack. Five wolves slipped in through the door around Oz and the demon surfaced in Spike without a second thought. Xander took one step back and Spike could see the green glint of the hyena in his eyes.

"Oz?" Xander said softly. The werewolf rubbed a slow hand up his arm, up further to his throat, ghosting over the bite-mark. "Oz, are you - hurt?" Xander took two rapid steps forward and the wolves tensed. Lips lifted off of ivory fangs and low snarls curled out of five throats - _six_. Spike straightened against the couch, growling, and the biggest wolf - silver and black and pewter-grey - snapped in his direction, black eyes glinting, feral and furious.

_*Pack-leader. But not **here**. Not in my house.*_ Spike stared until the wolf stepped back, the snarls tapering away. The air was thick with the musk of them; _pack_ and _enemy_ and _hunt_.

"Xan-der." Oz's voice was hoarse and he stopped and swallowed and held out his hand. "Don't - push. I'm not hurt."

"You look hurt." Xander didn't move and Oz finally stepped closer, close enough to touch, but he didn't. 

"I'm not. I...." He stopped again, looking at Xander, taking a deep breath, his mouth slightly open and his eyes darkening for a moment. Then he looked at Spike.

"I'm going with them," Oz said softly, and Xander jerked as if he'd been slapped. Spike nodded slowly, smoking, watching the biggest wolf as it circled delicately, getting closer to Oz and Xander by increments.

"Oz, you…. What do you mean? Going where?" Oz lowered his head and seemed to be lost, for a moment, seemed to be struggling to gather the words he needed and Xander reached out put his hand on Oz's shoulder. And the silver-black wolf _lunged_ and Spike did, flat dive that slammed him right into fur-covered ribs. Hard, _hard_ shove, roll and _up_ , crouched and waiting. The wolf skidded upright and _growled_ and Oz flinched.

" _Don't_ -" he said, and the wolf snapped at Oz - shouldered him aside and stood squarely between Oz and Spike. 

"This is _my_ house, wolf. Fucking _manners_." Spike waited, crouched and ready, and the black and silver wolf _chuffed_ down deep in its chest. Xander was frozen, unmoving, his head down, his eyes fixed on Oz. He radiated confusion, anger, misery, and Spike spared him a single glance, wishing they weren't doing this. _*No matter what, he's hurt. You've hurt him, wolf.... And it's gonna be days before he realizes **how** hurt he is. And you'll be gone.*_

The wolf shivered, twisted and _changed_ , in a jarring series of flickering postures that made Spike snarl, jerking back. One of the other wolves whined and then fell silent. After a moment a man stood next to Oz, panting. He was older, mid forties, maybe. Whipcord muscle over long bones. Scarred, here and there; bad ones on his thigh and hip. His hair was past his ribs, black with streaks of silver, matted and thick. Black nails, muddy feet and hands, wary eyes; cornflower blue with the epicanthal fold of someone of Asian descent.

"This is Amaruq," Oz said, and then stopped again, as if there was nothing more to say. His own scent was more the wolf then it had ever been, the underlying tones of his humanity thin and faint. Anxiety, desire, anger, warring in him. Xander's fists were clenched and Spike sighed and looked around and saw his cigarette smoldering on the floor and picked it up. 

"You're gonna have to talk, wolf. Xander needs to _know_." Oz twitched just a little, nodded then, and held his hand out, ignored the growl that immediately rattled up out of Amaruq's chest when Xander took it, gripping hard.

"He's from up north, Xander, up in Canada, up by the ice."

"Nunavut," Amaruq said, his voice low and rough and accented - nothing Spike recognized. "Inuit," he added, and Oz nodded. 

"What's that? What are those places?" Xander had pulled Oz's hand to his chest and was holding it in both of his, and Oz looked distinctly unhappy with that. But he didn't move. The other wolves - the four still in their animal forms - padded back and forth between the door and Amaruq, snapping and snarling, but quietly.

"It's clans, it's - Inuit -" 

"Eskimo," Amaruq said, a sneer in his voice and Xander's eyes flickered to him. 

"You're going to - to live with _Eskimos?_ Oz, what the _fuck?_ " 

"It's _pack_ , Xander." Oz took a step closer - finally reached out and _touched_ Xander, touched his cheek with a mud-smeared hand. "I need to be the wolf for a while, Xander. I _told_ you. He - there's a place. Near the ice, near Greenland. It's tribal land, it's safe. I can't - hurt anyone, I can just be what I _am._ "

"You're _Oz_ , you're my friend! You're not...you can't go that far away, Oz - you _can't._ " Xander was shivering, standing there, his eyes pleading and his hands white around Oz's hands - hurting him, Spike was sure. "How can I - get there, how can -?"

" _Not_ pack," Amaruq snarled, stepping up close and putting out his hand, as if he'd push Xander away and Xander _snarled_ , the hyena up and out, slamming all of them with a wave of that sweet-honey musk that was tinged with acid fury. Strange enough to make Amaruq jerk back, wide eyed.

" _Mine_ ," Xander growled, and Amaruq's eyes were flickering, darkening and lightening as he struggled with the wolf in him.

" _Not_ -" the werewolf began, and Spike stepped forward and stiff-armed Amaruq back hard, growling. The older were had a strong scent of _green_ \- astringent and bitter. 

" _My_ house, wolf, my _pack_. Back off. Back off _now_." The other wolves were slinking in fast - circling, snarling, and Spike hoped he wouldn't have to fight. Werewolves were tough, and these were _big_ , and Xander - was right there. _*Won't let him get hurt.*_

"Amaruq, _please_ -" Oz said softly, and the werewolf froze for a moment and then backed off, shaking his head. 

"We'll go up," he said, and Oz nodded. He changed, magic scent like burnt toast and marjoram in the air, and five wolves sidled out of the door and gone. Spike could hear Tod at the elevator, exclaiming in surprise and then the elevator working again, rattle and creak. Oz seemed to shake something off then, and he gently pulled Xander into a hug. Xander clung to him, green-eyed and trembling. Spike settled against the back of the couch again, smoking the last of his cigarette and crushing it out between his fingers.

"Xander - it's okay, it's okay. C'mon - calm down," Oz said, rubbing his back - running fingers through his hair, and Xander finally calmed a little, taking a hard breath in a letting it out with a shaky sigh.

"Oz, you can't go away like that," he whispered, and Oz hugged him _hard_ \- let go, and took a step back.

"I have to, Xander. I told you I was going to. When I - when I was well, I told you I wanted to go north. Just...be, for a while. Try to - heal things."

"I know! I know you said that but...but I'm supposed to come with you, Oz - I can still -"

" _No_ ," Oz whispered, and Spike looked away - pushed away from the couch and went to the cabinet, opened it and took out the bottle inside and took a long, long drink. He didn't want to think about the twist of razor-edged pain that had shot through him at Xander's words. Didn't want to think about the surge of bile and bitterness that had stung his throat. The demon was struggling to break free - to wrench Xander away from Oz and prove its claim. Drive Oz out. _Spike_...didn't dare.

_*Mine, he's mine, won't let him go, he's mine - ours - keep him close, keep him safe -*_ But Xander was leaning on Oz, face buried in his neck and his fingers clutching at Oz's thin shoulders, stuttering out questions and heartbroken pleas and Spike...couldn't bear to be denied. Not _now_ \- not ever. He took another, longer drink and shoved the bottle away - slammed the doors to the cabinet and then snarled softly to himself, angry that he'd lost that bit of control. _*Doesn't want to be here,*_ whispering in his heart and he closed his eyes, looked for headspace because right now he had to be _here_ \- had to be calm.

_"But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked._

_"Oh, you ca'n't help that," sad the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."_

_"How do you know I'm mad?" said Alice._

_"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn't have come here."_

_Alice didn't think that proved it at all: however, she went on. "And how do you know that you're mad?"_

_"To begin with," said the Cat, "A dog's not mad. You grant that?"_

_"I suppose so," said Alice._

_"Well, then," the Cat went on, "you see a dog growls when it's angry, and wags its tail when it's pleased. Now I growl when I'm pleased, and wag my tail when I'm angry. Therefore, I'm mad."_

_"I call it purring, not growling," said Alice._

_"Call it what you like," said the Cat._

_*'I'm mad, you're mad....' Dru loved that part. I think...one of **us** is mad.... Probably me. Already doing mad things for this...this rabbit. This boy. **My** boy....*_

"Oz, _please_ \- I can do this." Xander was wiping at his face, was striding across the floor and pulling open the wardrobe, yanking out clothes and shoving them haphazardly into the duffle he'd pulled from the bottom drawer. Talking fast and disjointed, as if to be silent were to give in. _Panic_ in every jerky movement and in the acrid sweat that oiled him. "I can get a job up there at a - l-lumber camp or something, or - on a fishing ship - I can d-do anything if they'll just show me and I can find us a place, you don't have to l-live with… _him_...you don't -"

"Xander, you can't -"

"Yes I _can_ , Oz! Don't -" Xander stopped for a minute, his fists clenched down tight on the bronze-colored shirt he'd worn to the club. He stared blindly at it, finally blinked and looked up, looked at Spike. Spike stared back, knowing that with the demon's features to the fore Xander couldn't read him. Xander shook his head minutely - pushed the shirt back into the bottom of the wardrobe and grabbed something else, ragged sweater in a muddy sort of blue. "I _can_ , Oz. I said I wasn't - leaving you, I said.... I would take care of you and - you said we'd be...okay and we'd be together. You _said_ that, Oz!" Xander's voice rose on the last, cracked, and Oz flinched back from him, eyes black. Stinking of nerves and anger and confusion - stinking of _Amaruq_ and Spike growled softly. Oz shot him a narrow-eyed look and then shook his head, turned and started to walk to the door.

"Oz!" Xander abandoned his packing and darted after the thin, dirty figure, items of clothing dragging behind him, dangling from his fists. Tripping him, and he skidded and ended on one knee, panting. "Oz - _don't_." Xander's voice cracked again, thick with tears, and Oz stopped and stood for a moment, head down. Then he turned and walked back slowly, crouching down in front of Xander. "Please, please, Oz - don't leave, _please_ don't leave," Xander whispered, and Spike _roared_ , making them both flinch.

" _Stop_ it, rabbit! Can't you _smell_ him?" Spike advanced on the both of them, furious, stopping within arm's reach. "He's got that - _other_ all over him. That _Amaruq_." Xander's eyes were wide and wet - still glimmering green and Spike didn't understand how the hyena could be so...wounded. 

"I - I know," Xander muttered, and Oz closed his eyes. "I know. I don't _care_. I don’t - we never did that, anyway, it doesn't _matter_ -"

"It bloody well _does_ ," Spike growled, and Oz opened his eyes and reached for Xander and held his face gently in his hands.

"Xander - you _can't_. Amaruq is...leader. You're not wolf - you _can't come_. It's not a place for you, up there. It's...a wolf-place, Xander, it's -"

" _Pack_ ," Xander said, venom and heartbreak in that one word and Oz nodded slowly. 

"I _love you_. You saved me. You kept me alive, you found Wrxl and... I love you, Xander. But I have to _go_." Oz drew in a hard, hard breath and his fingers flexed on Xander's face, slid upward slowly, brushing through his hair. "I'll be gone - for a while. I'll…. Tell Spike where you are, and I'll find you." He leaned forward and kissed Xander, slow kiss, gentle, not a lover's kiss, and Xander's fingers dug into Oz's biceps, drew blood on the left one.

"No, no - _no_. Oz? P-please -" Xander's hands clutched but Oz disentangled himself, gently pushing him away. Then he stood and looked up for a moment at Spike and backed away, _changing_ as he went until a tall russet wolf stood in the doorway, black eyes wide and dull, mud on his paws. Oz lifted his head and howled, a ringing, crying sound and Spike could hear the others replying, could hear Tod cursing in the hall, wrenching open the elevator door. Then Oz was gone, and Xander was slumped there on the floor, shirts and a torn pair of jeans trailing from his hands. Breathing hard, shaking - smear of mud on his cheek, mixing with tears.

Spike sighed softly, went slowly to his knees next to the boy. Xander's was just staring at the empty doorway, and Spike listened to the elevator stop, listened to the faint sounds of the wolves as they greeted Oz, and then...nothing at all. Tod, at least, was smart enough not to come down. 

"Rabbit -"

"Don't _call_ me that, don't fuckin' - call me that you _bastard_." Xander struggled, trying to get up and getting tangled in a shirt and Spike snatched the clothes away from him - threw them at the wardrobe, angry now.

"I'll call you what I like. Listen - _listen!_ " Spike grabbed Xander's arms and jerked him around, face to face, and Xander snarled, snapping his teeth. " _Xander_. Stop it. He's gone, now. He's _gone_ and you're here -"

" _ **No**!_ " Xander struggled wildly - wrenched away and stumbled to his feet, awkwardly snagging a lone shirt and all but running back to his wardrobe. "I'm _not_ here, I won't be. I'm gonna go - he can't stop me and I can find him. Not supposed to leave without me -"

"That Amaruq'll kill you," Spike said, watching him. Not bothering to get up. Suddenly so very _tired_.

"No, he _won't_ \- I can.... I'll figure something out, I'll talk to him. I m-made Oz's wolf accept me, I can -"

" _Rabbit_. Don't be so bloody _stupid_ ," Spike snapped, and Xander froze. _*God **damnit** , fucking hell - rabbit, c'mon -*_ "Xander -"

" _No_. No. You just - shut up, Spike. Just. Shut the fuck up." Xander yanked his coat from a hanger, his hat and gloves spilling from the pocket. He pulled it on with jerky motions, the collar skewed and half tucked against his neck. He looked around and saw his boots, shoved his feet into them. "I'm not going to _be here_ , Spike," he said, and he strode to the door, hovered there for a moment and then was gone, crashing up the fire stairs, running, up and out.

Spike stayed where he was, on his knees, for another hour.

 

The string of days that followed...were strange ones. Silent, for the most part, for Spike. He made a phone call on the third day - on the fourth presented Viv with a lock-box of cash and his resignation. Close to five-hundred thousand dollars and only the tip of the iceberg of the great mass of treasure he'd found with the Gem of Ammara. He may have lost the Gem, but he'd secured the rest of the horde; put it aside for a rainy day. This was sodding Noah's Ark kind of weather. 

He also stopped by to see Wrxl. Mostly to thank the old demon, but also to give him an interesting ring that had come from the hoard. Wrxl was back to his beakers and his bottles, his herbs and his chemicals, and Spike stood for a moment in the doorway, watching him. Then he slowly went across the room. Wrxl measured something into a beaker of bubbling liquid and stood back - looked up at Spike, his whiskers flicking forward and back and then settling in a stiff forward display.

"So, Spike, your wolf, he's doing better, then?"

"He's doing well, Wrxl. Seems he found some other wolves." 

Wrxl's whiskers flattened and pushed forward again, and he picked up his cane and hobbled around the table. "Did he, now? Well, that's good, isn't it? He wanted to find more of his own kind, didn't he."

"He did. But they're from _Canada_ , Wrxl. A long way from here - up near the ice." Spike picked up a thin glass pipette - weighed it in his hand and then set it aside. The bluish liquid inside moved sluggishly. "I wonder...how did Oz happen to find them? Or they him? Seems....a bit dodgy, don't you think?" 

Wrxl regarded him, unblinking - finally sighed and settled onto a tall stool, his cane between his knees. "I called them, of course. When I first learned of your wolf, I began to make enquiries. Then, when it became clear that...his own kind was desired, I sent a message. Through channels. They came for him." 

"Is that what you did?" Spike asked, and his voice was cold - was flat in his own ears.

Wrxl stirred on the stool a little and then tapped the cane once, twice on the floor. "It was for the best, Spike. Surely you see that. I did what I was asked to do - I cured his physical malady. Now he must - cure the rest."

_*But what about my boy? You've ripped his heart out, you old bastard...you and the wolf.*_ But Spike didn't say that aloud - simply lay the ring down on the table and walked out. 

He found out from Tod's boys the address of the place they'd found Oz and he went there, searching. But the place had been taken over by junkies and reeked of piss and the chemical miasma of a meth lab and Spike left in disgust, avoiding blood that tainted. He contemplated throwing a match and burning the place to the ground, but he knew from past experience that the resultant fireball might actually catch him, so he went down to the docks instead, hunting. The underground picked up on his mood and withdrew, and Spike found himself taking out his frustrations on rough-neck humans and it...didn't satisfy. He even found a soldier one night, and hunted him to the oubliette, but the satisfaction was fleeting and he found himself irritable afterward - even more on edge.

And then rumor reached him, eighth day of fruitless searching. Silas Trott, one of his 'death matches', and the not-quite-human who was taking on all comers.

_*And that's him. 'Course it is. Damnit, Xander….*_ He contemplated, through the day, just what he would do. Decided to go and see, and…. _*Not pull him out by his ear, like a little brat. Let him fight. Let him **vent**. Let him...wear himself out on it. Tell Silas if any humans end up being killed, he's next. Won't have my boy shouldering that, too.*_

Spike...missed him. Missed his sullen silences and his big, soft smile and his scent. Missed him with a knife-edged ache that made him angry. _*Just a silly little rabbit. Just a boy. Not...like Dru. Not like Angelus and Darla...not **family**.*_ But Spike knew he was lying to himself - or trying to. Darla was dust and gone, and Angelus was chasing pipe-dreams and redemption in L.A. Dru...had slipped away, while he'd been a prisoner. Feeling his pain, no doubt, or bored, or scared. Gone somewhere _south_ , was what his senses told him, and they'd find each other again. Some time. They had until the sun burned out, and made everything into clinkers and ash. Spike rather thought Dru would like Xander. She'd...understand.

When the sun went down he had a shower, dressed carefully in new denim and old leather, in cotton and a heavy, thin over-shirt of butter-soft suede that clung to him in rich folds, oxblood red. Smokes and lighter and his straight-razor; didn't need the extra stuff, anymore. Xander's hat and gloves lay on the coffee table, fallen and forgotten from his coat-pocket and Spike picked them up; inhaled their scent and rubbed one glove along his cheek for a moment. Then he tucked them into a pocket and strode out. Heading for the docks, for the sub-basement lair and the fights. Going to find his boy.

 

Silas had strung neon rope-light all over the basement; lurid red and blue and gold snakes twining all through exposed girders and dripping pipes. The concrete floor was stained with old blood and old sweat - rank and thick. And the crowd was a hectic and hair-triggered mix of demons and vampires and half-humans and humans, all jostling and drinking and smoking and betting. All on edge - wound tight - ready to come unglued. As-per-fucking-usual, with Silas; he never seemed to know when enough was enough, and he pushed all-out warfare, sometimes, with the things he pulled. 

A fight was already going on when Spike sauntered into the basement. He paused on the cracked concrete staircase, about four risers from the bottom and lit a cigarette, watching. Two demons - a Fyarl and a kind he didn't know, with a strip of deadly-looking spines down its back - were grappling in the 'ring': layers of worn cardboard, taped down with scuffed silver duct-tape. There was yellow ichor and blood spattered there already, and Silas - in a shiny brown suit - was narrating the fight from on top of a milk-crate, little wireless mic in his hand and a brace of hulking vamp bodyguards standing right behind him. The crowd seethed like a pot on a fire. Not nearly ready to boil over, but so, so primed for it. Spike smoked, and watched - _looked_. And finally...Xander.

_*Ah, fuck, rabbit...fuck.*_

Xander was standing in a small roped-off area, leaning against the damp, rough concrete of the wall, in nothing but a pair of ragged old blue-jeans that rode low on his hips. There were dark splashes down the front and a vamp hovering over him, carefully stitching a gash in his chest while Xander twitched, pale as milk. There were deep hollows around his eyes and in his cheeks, and he looked like he'd lost about ten pounds. Livid bruises all over his torso, split lip, swelling cheek, his hair in strings and his knuckles bloody. But then he opened his eyes, and they flashed witch-fire green.

Spike wondered how long the hyena had been in control. A couple days, at least. He _knew_ the hyena wouldn't take a fall for Silas, and now Oz was gone, it didn't need to. Spike smoked - watched the fight - watched Xander, who didn't move from the wall. Spike was demon-faced, growling softly. He wanted to grab Xander, drag him out of there, get him home. Fuck him unconscious and bite him, drink him, feed him Spike's own blood. The stink of the place was sure to be all over him; that vamp doing the fucking EMT-imitation was _touching_ him, and Spike was gonna rip her head off.

But he waited instead; smoked, and glared at anybody who dared brush past to close and watched the fight; watched the spiny demon eventually win. Its spines could shoot out like a porcupine and apparently were toxic - to the Fyarl, at least - and the more slender spine-demon finally ripped the Fyarl's throat out, letting out a weird, creaking cry.

_*Shoots spines and they're poisonous. Fuck. Find out what the fuck that is and bloody well keep away from it.*_

Spike finally went down the last steps and made his way over to Silas, who was hovering over a flimsy card-table, watching another big vamp pay out winning bets and take more money in on the next fight. A child's chalkboard - an easel-style thing with a bright alphabet painted around the edge - had the fights and odds written on it, and Spike noted the large 'X' and the long odds - 17 to 1 - and grinned. Spike reached out and grabbed Silas' arm and pulled him around. 

"Silas. Rakin' it in, I see."

"Spike! You - ah - yes. Overhead is so high for these things, barely breaking even, you know -" Silas tried to cover his initial nervous start by moving between Spike and the money, smoothing his hands down his shiny, brown lapels and twitching nervously at his blue and yellow striped tie; his matching pocket handkerchief. He looked, Spike thought, like a shiny brown cockroach and the sweat on his forehead and his glass-slick hair didn't help much. Spike knew that him being in demon-face made Silas more nervous; the features were hard to read, the eyes less telling. 

"Didn't come for a cut, Silas. Came to ask about your fighter, that human boy. ' _X_ '. Silas' eyes narrowed, and he patted at his breast-pocket and then extracted a flat, gold case; took out a twiggy-looking cigar and lit it with a slim gold lighter. Somehow, even _those_ things seemed...insectile, and Spike resisted the urge to just...squish him. Silas puffed, sending up a cloud of fungus-y smelling smoke and Spike growled softly. Silas pretended he hadn't heard and blew the smoke the other way.

"That one? _Not_ human. Something funny, but not human. He won't say, and that's fine. He's going up against...a half-Hixa, next. Should be a good fight. You wanna place a bet? For you - 25 to 1."

"M'not here to bet, Silas." Spike took a last drag on his cigarette and flicked it away into the crowd, oblivious to where it ended up. "I'm just here to make sure everything's on the up and up. Making sure nobody's trying to take advantage of my boy."

Silas froze, his cigar half-way to his mouth. " _Your_ boy? Your… _boy_. He said - I mean... Donna!" A thin, blonde vampire slipped out of the crowd and bustled up to Silas, clip-board in hand. He leaned over to her and spoke rapidly, poking the air with the cigar while Donna stared straight at Spike, her golden eyes speculative. Spike didn't bother to listen - he knew what Silas was asking. He looked around at the milling, tensed crowd and smirked. There was a general ebb and drift of spectators toward the 'ring', and Spike knew the fight was starting. Donna scurried away.

"Just keep in mind, Silas - anything happens to my boy, it'll happen to _you_ , too - only five times over. Get me?"

Silas glared at him - ducked his head to Donna who had re-appeared out of the crowd, frowning. Silas paled, looking rather yellow as the blood drained from his face. "What? _No_.... Oh - shit." He gave Spike a sick look and pushed over to his milk crate, climbed up and clicked his little mic on. Donna was still staring and Spike snarled at her. He knew what she'd told Silas: Xander was marked. Marked as his. She backed off, head down, and Spike began to push his way through the crowd as well, not being very careful of steel-shod toes or elbows. Finally he broke through to the front and stood there, arms crossed. Waiting. 

The Hixa came in first. Tall and gangling and _not_ passing for human. A crest of scarlet spines sticking through dirty-blond fur and marching down its back, getting longer and thicker and then tapering off to nothing again at the tailbone. Long, bare feet with curved claws, claws on the long, webbed hands. A flat, reptilian face with a dusting of dull-copper scales down the human-like chest and shoulders. The Hixa bounced slightly on the balls of its feet, spines lifting and lowering and a very lizard-like tongue flickering out, scenting the air. Dusky skin streaked with blue and gold highlights from the neon flex, eyes a smoldering coal-red.

Then Xander walked into the ring. No, Spike thought, not walked. _Skulked_. Sidled in, head down, green-gage eyes flashing, mouth set in a sulky, twisted smile. Streaks of blue in his hair from the neon - dapples of blue and gold over his skin. In the lurid light Xander looked like the living dead, his skin sheened with sweat and far too pale, and Spike growled in a fury of indecision.

_*Want him **out** of here, damnit - out of this fuckin' place. Needs taken care of....*_ But Xander needed to fight, too. _Needed_ it, as much as Spike needed him home. The honey-musk of the hyena overpowered even the dry spice of the agitated Hixa, and Xander stopped dead halfway across the ring - lifted his head and scented the air, mouth open. Then he gave a low, chuckling laugh; a guttural, eerie sound and the crowd called back approvingly. The glittering eyes passed over Spike - hesitated - and then were locked on the Hixa and the fight began.

Apparently, Silas was allowing weapons because Xander stepped right up to the Hixa, grinning, and lashed out with one of his lethally fast, pin-point punches. Straight into the Hixa's face, and they all heard the crunch of fracturing cartilage. At the same moment his left hand was going out, swiping low across the belly and the Hixa's skin was parting beneath the push-knife held in Xander's fist. No viscera or intestines followed, and Spike concluded the Hixa had tougher skin than a human. The crowd was roaring, stomping, and the _shush_ of bare feet over cardboard was faint, Xander's heartbeat even fainter. Over all was Silas' chanting voice, narrating the fight, egging the crowd on, the fighters.

_*Bread and fucking circuses,*_ Spike thought, and shivered.

The Hixa jerked back, circled left and came in fast, swiping with claws and tongue, a clever diversionary move. Xander evaded - blocked - and swiped the push-knife through the air, catching the tip of the Hixa's tongue. It made a high-pitched sort of squeaking noise and danced back, blood flowing over its chin. The crowd shouted its approval.

Xander stalked it around the ring, hitting it again and then again with his fist but it danced back too fast for him to connect with the knife. It spun and kicked, managing to catch Xander's thigh and he jumped back, growling; bleeding from three long scratches, the jeans in rags around his thigh. Spike growled as well and the Hixa shot him a single glance before crouching down and lunging. This time Xander dodged completely and brought his elbow down sharply on the Hixa's back. That seemed to be a vulnerable spot; it wailed and went down, two spines crushed flat midway down its spine.

With a snarl, Xander fell on it, knees in the Hixa's back and his right hand grabbing a handful of fur - yanking the head back high and hard. His left hand swooped forward and the back of Xander's hand connected with the Hixa's throat - yanked left and this time, skin parted down to tendon and cartilage and a fan of arterial blood sprayed out over the cardboard. Xander tipped his head back and _shrieked_ , full throated howl of the hyena and the crowed roared back, jostling and jumping - shouting praise and cursing. Keeping back of the duct-taped limits of the 'ring' with difficulty. 

Xander lowered his head, lowered the body to the floor and crouched over it; reached with the knife and Spike knew what would come next. The hyena, going for liver and kidneys and heart. Victory feast. Spike saw something else, though. Saw Xander's thighs trembling under him, saw his hand shaking as it poised the knife. Saw the green luminescence of the hyena go out of Xander's eyes and the human return. Exhausted, heart-sick...on the edge.

_*No. He doesn't fall, out there. Doesn't lose it now. They'll tear him to pieces. Xander, love...time to come home.*_

Spike stepped into the ring, walking slowly, hearing the crowd noise ebb and fall off - taper to a hushed and grumbling susurrus. He walked to Xander and stood there, looking down at him, and after a moment Xander looked up. Hand flat on the corpse of the Hixa, blood smeared up his left arm and soaking the tattered leg of his jeans. The dark eyes came up and up until they met Spike's gaze and for a moment there was nothing there at all, and then Xander pushed - stood so, so slowly. He held out his hand, fingers trembling, and Spike lifted his own. The push-knife dropped into his palm and Spike shut his fist around it - dropped it into his pocket. His blood-smeared hand went up again, to touch Xander's cheek and tug him close. Spike kissed his forehead, tasting blood and sweat and misery.

"Come home now, rabbit," he whispered, and Xander sighed, turned and stepped slowly away, and Spike followed him. Behind them, the crowd surged forward and the Hixa was dragged away.

Over in the little roped-off staging area, Xander shuffled slowly into his boots and shirt, the same he'd stormed out of the flat in. They were crumpled and filthy, stank of old sweat and chemicals. There was a pipe lying on a straight-backed wooden chair and Spike lifted it, the acrid stink of vaporized cocaine in his nostrils. He dropped the pipe and crushed it, and Xander stood there for a moment - slowly pulled his   
pea-coat on. His red scarf dangled from the pocket and he pulled it out, held it, smoothing it in his hands.

"Won't come clean, if I wear it. It'll stink of all this forever." His voice was _gone_ \- a ragged thread that hurt to hear, and Spike took the scarf from Xander's hands and wrapped it carefully around his neck.

"I'll buy you new, love. Or we can get it cleaned. We'll fix it." Spike pulled the hat and gloves out of his pocket then; shoved the gloves back away, because Xander's hands were too swollen and sore-looking - too ravaged by fights - to be forced into them. He smoothed Xander's lank hair back from his forehead and tugged the watch-cap down snugly - buttoned the middle button of the coat.

"Trust me to fix it, love. All right?" Xander swayed a little - swayed _into_ Spike and just stood there for a moment. Then he lifted his head and kissed Spike's mouth - smear of blood and a drop of sweat - roughly chapped, cold.

_*Missed you, rabbit. Oh, I missed you...never let you go again.*_

"All right, Spike. All right," Xander whispered. And they went home.

 

 

Spike noticed a certain fragility in Xander in the days that followed. A tendency to cringe - to look away. While Xander sweated the decaying remnants of too much dopamine, adrenaline, coke and who knew what else out of his body, Spike watched him twist and burrow and _hide_. Watched him duck his head and drink his juice like a good little rabbit but without the glare and the curl of lip that had always come with it before.

Spike took to petting him, coaxing him, calling him out at every opportunity and it seemed to make Xander worse. Made him shiver and turn away and feign sleep for hours at a time. 

Eventually, of course, it pissed Spike _off_ and then he simply ignored him. Or tried to. Sprawled on the couch, footie on the TV and a bottle on the coffee table. Shot glass cool and wet in his hand, cigarette smoldering beside it, he'd lean back on the pillows and… _watch_. Peripherally. Carefully.

Watch Xander move shakily from bed to bath to wardrobe. Damp hair curling around his neck, body hunched over the healing cut on his chest, the stitches starkly black against his too-pale, bruised skin. Watch Xander struggle into jeans and raveling thermal shirt and a flannel over all. Socks on his feet and he'd shuffle to the kitchen and drink juice, eat a boiled egg or a slice of toast, all the while keeping a wary eye on Spike. Wary, dark - sad? Spike wasn't sure. Little flinches every time Spike moved. Big ones when Spike shouted at the TV - at the refs and the players. Spike shouted a little more than necessary, just to see him do it.

Then Xander would just...huddle. Hover. Stand by the kitchen island and fiddle with a paper towel. Stare into his slowly-emptying juice glass as if the secrets to the universe where all there at the bottom, waiting for him to drink up. Deeply-socketed eyes looking up and away, up and away. Too much emotion in them for Spike to figure out and not enough _noise_ from a human who'd hummed unconsciously under his breath - who'd _talked_ , even when he clearly didn't want to because silence had been too heavy a cross to bear. 

All of it ratcheting tension and irritation up and up in Spike until he'd snap, snarl - get up and go _out_. Go hunt or go fight or go do _something_ , because he wanted his rabbit back; wanted Xander to snap and snarl along with him - wanted him to come sit on the couch and roll his eyes and make fun of the game, wanted Xander to fidget and kick Spike's ankle and tell him to fuck off….and kiss him, and let Spike pet his hair, and lean into him and sigh and doze. Curl his arm around Spike's ribs and _rest_. 

This new Xander didn't rest. It was driving Spike crazy.

_Seattle_ was driving Spike crazy. He was sick of the damp and the fucking rain and sick of Tod and his boys and Viv's calls on his cell, prodding at him. He'd _gotten_ what he needed, thank you, and paid off his considerable debt to her - although _not_ the way she'd wanted it to be paid off - and now he just wanted to get gone. 

He and Dru had stayed years in some places - New York and Tokyo, Berlin and London and fucking _Prague_ had all been big enough to hide them and feed them for however long they'd cared to stay. But they'd traveled a lot, too, and the itch was getting under Spike's skin. The need to move _on_ \- to see new places. He cursed himself, and picked another fight, and drank another bottle because, damnit, he wanted to take Xander _with_ him.

Wanted to show him the Giza plateau just before dawn, when all the ages of the old Earth seemed to distill out of the air and seep into your skin - make you feel young and ancient at once. Wanted to show him the vast underground of Paris where secret chambers still hid the bones of martyrs and rebels and aristocrats long forgotten. Wanted to show him the endless, lazy glide of the Danube as it spilled past dense forest and chill, knife-edged mountains. Wanted…. 

_*Fucking hell. Fucking **human**. Pushed and wormed and dug a hole in me and now he's **in** there, all curled up tight and won't fuckin' get **out**.... Little bastard. Should have just eaten him. Should have just let him go after the wolfling….*_ _That_ thought made Spike even more pissed off. _Oz_. The werewolf had abandoned the boy - told him he wasn't wanted and _left_ him. _*Left **me**. Didn't want to stay, didn't want...him. Us.*_

"Wanker," Spike muttered, lifting his hand and signaling for another shot. Watching with heavy-lidded eyes the girl dancing on the stage. She caught his look and smiled, shimmied closer to his table, hands fluttering over her body, her look promising...anything. Spike got his shot and drained it, watching her. Contemplating the roll of money in his pocket and how much she would want to let him pick her up and fuck her against a wall. 

But she was too _blonde_. Too thin. No muscle in her twiggy legs, no firmness to the lean buttocks. Skin and bone and silicone and Spike stood up with a grimace of disgust, throwing down a hundred dollar bill and stalking out. He didn't _want_ that. He wanted….

_*Dark eyes, dark hair, honey-musk and spice and blood like new wine...thighs sleek with muscle, rough hands, sharp teeth….*_

"Bloody _hell!_ " Spike shouted - kicked the fender of a red, imported car and grinned at the shatter of fiberglass under his boot, the shriek of an alarm. When the owner - and his four friends - rushed out of the strip-club he was waiting; eyes bright, teeth bared. They were big; that was good.

 

Letting himself into the flat just past dawn, skin tingling from the mostly-occluded sun and from the bruises and scratches and raw spots on his body. If one fight feels good, five will feel better, and Spike licked at a split lip and grinned to himself. Pleasantly exhausted from the night's adventures - belly full of adrenalin-spiced blood. Hot shower, shot of good whiskey, bed.

_*Xander in the bed with me...except he won't....*_ Spike growled to himself and tried to turn off that thought. Xander slept fitfully, curled fully clothed on the couch or in the bed he and Oz had infrequently shared, and Spike didn't have the heart to _force_ him. Wanted him willing, like he'd been before. Wanted that heat and lean muscle cuddled up to his back - callused fingers tight on his wrist and the slow, steady heartbeat that lulled him like nothing else.

" _Fuck!_ " Spike hurled his keys across the room and then whirled at a sharp, shocked bark of sound coming from - his _bed_. His bed and Xander _in_ it, lying on the comforter, Spike's pillow bunched in his hands. Dressed, like he always was now but his hair a tangled corona around a sleep-dazed, cringing face. " _Rabbit_ ," Spike growled, and crossed the room in a few long strides and snatched Xander up from his huddle, pulling him half off his feet, fingers knotted in the torn hoodie and the t-shirt underneath.

"What are you doing, rabbit?" Spike asked, his voice low and even and - nearly pleasant. It took a monumental effort of will not to scream in Xander's face. Xander clutched at Spike's hands, looked wildly everywhere but at Spike's face and Spike shook him. "Asked you a _question_ , rabbit. What. Are. You. _Doing_?" Shake with every word and Xander's teeth clacked - shut hard. For a moment heat flared in his eyes and then it was gone and Xander just hung there, head down, shivering.

"I - I - was j-just...tired, I just wanted to r-rest," he whispered finally, and Spike wanted to shake him again.

"On _my_ bed."

"Ss-sorry, I'm s-sorry, I won't - t-t-touch -"

" _Shut **up**_." Spike _did_ shake him again - flung him back down onto the bed and Xander froze for a moment and then scrambled up and away, dodging Spike and heading for the far side of the room. Spike took a deep breath and _roared_ \- pounced after him and grabbed him by the shirt again, spinning him around, slamming him _hard_ into the wardrobe he'd shared with Oz. Still full of Oz's things - still thick with the stink of sick werewolf.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with you, rabbit? What are you playing at? What do you _want_ from me, damnit!" Xander shrank back against the wardrobe, his eyes darting frantically over the room and Spike hissed - reached and grabbed the boy's chin in a hard, pinching grasp and forcefully turned his head up, _made_ wide, human eyes meet furious demon ones. Eye to eye for long moments and then all at once Xander simply sagged, and Spike let him go. Xander slid down the wardrobe doors to the floor, landing on his ass, his knees drawn up and listing sideways, hands limp at his sides.

"I - I just...I thought.... I'm gonna...go, I'm gonna...f-f-find some other p-place -"

Spike crouched down in front of Xander and slammed his palms into the wood on either side of Xander's head, making him flinch back and rap the back of his head, hard, on the same wood. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about? You're not going _anywhere_ , rabbit."

Xander gaped at him and then, a switch was thrown and that pissed off look came over his face - that sulky anger that made Spike want to bite him. " _Fuck you!_ Damnit, Spike, I - I'm going! I'll clear out! I'm not your fucking pet and if - if you don't want me here I'm not gonna stay!"

Xander pushed Spike _hard_ , and Spike lost his balance and fell on his ass, astonished. He snatched at jean-clad legs as Xander tried to move past him and brought the boy crashing down, rolling them over so Spike was on top. Xander fought back, heartbeat soaring and his hands clawing, punching, his whole _body_ fighting. Spike growled when Xander hit already-bruised places and just barely kept himself from sinking his fangs into a briefly-exposed throat.

Eventually they crashed into a wall and Spike pinned Xander beneath him, thin wrists in his hands and Xander's furious, tear-streaked face inches from his own. 

"Let me _go_ , you fuck, you _bastard_ -"

"Shut _up!_ " Spike squeezed Xander's wrists until the bones ground together under his fingers and Xander yelped and froze, panting. Spike was shaking - _shaking!_ So angry he was demon-faced and growling and ready to scream. "Damnit, rabbit, you better tell me what in _bloody_ hell his going through your fucking head, _right now!_ "

"Thought you wanted me to shut up," Xander snarled, and Spike struck. Fangs in Xander's throat, catching on the leather that was....that was still there. Spike stopped, the tips of his fangs just breaking the skin and Xander twisted beneath him, gasping for air.

_*Fuck. This is...this isn't what I.... Fuck, fuck, **fuck**.*_ Spike pulled away, sat up - hauled Xander up with him and shoved him into the wall, holding him there with on hand on his shoulder and his right leg over Xander's thighs. Xander just stared at him and Spike used his free hand to trace the cheap leather strands. The silver chevrons were already dull and chipped, showing their pot-metal origins.

"You didn't take it off," Spike said, and Xander shrugged - looked away.

"You gave it to me. I didn't...." He stopped - wiped angrily at his face with the sleeve of the faded navy hoodie and then glared at Spike. "I was going to," he muttered.

"But you _didn't_." Spike stared at Xander under Xander looked away, and Spike finally let the demon go; sighed and slumped a little, letting loose of Xander's shoulder. They both sat in silence, Xander fidgeting with the zip of his hoodie and Spike staring at the collar. _*Necklace. It's not a real collar.*_ "Rabbit, tell me why you want to leave," Spike asked finally, and Xander's mouth opened, soundless look of surprise.

" _What?_ You said -! No, you didn't, you...." Xander stopped and looked down at his hands - chewed on his lip for a moment. "Silas told me you said.... I mean, you talked to him and -"

" _Silas?_ " Spike barked, and Xander's gaze came up fast, hot and furious, skewering him.

"You told Vivien I'd fight for her and she, Silas told me about - you made this deal, and -"

"Xander, for fuck's sake - Silas is a cockroach. I don't make deals with his kind. What the fuck did he tell you?"

Xander just stared at him - looked away again, his eyes wide and his hands clutching fiercely into the ragged hem of the hoodie, twisting it. "He _told_ me. He - you owed Vivien money. _I_ did. For Oz. For the...drugs and the...Knocker. And I had to - pay it back. You didn't...."

 

"That's utter bollocks, rabbit. How could you possibly believe such shite? What did I tell you, when I came and got you?" 

Xander shrugged - looked down and away and back up. "I don't...remember," he said finally, and Spike just looked at him. "I was kinda...fucked up."

" _Christ_." Spike sat there - got up, finally and went over to the cabinet and got himself a drink. Stood there and tried to calm down, because Xander was pissing him off. Xander was _scaring_ him, just a little. Not remember _how_? Had he got hit on the head? Did he need a doctor? What _else_ had he forgotten?

"Explain that, rabbit. What the fuck were you _doing_? What - what _do_ you remember?"

Xander pushed himself slowly up the wall - sidled over to where Spike was standing. Head down, shoulders slumped. Looking so lost, and so beaten, and so...alone.

_*God, rabbit, what've you done to yourself? What...happened?*_

"I…. Oz was here. And he... and then I left. I was really...angry. And I just - walked for a while and Tod -" Spike snarled and Xander flinched and Spike got another drink; took Xander's shirt-front in his fingers and pulled him over to the couch, pushed him down. Sat down himself, cross-legged on the cushions, hands on knees. Waiting.

"Go on then, rabbit. What about Tod?" 

"I was down near O'Shea's." Xander's head _stayed_ down as he talked, voice low and flat, fingers twisting into the hem of his t-shirt and shredding it, just a little. Spike wanted to put his hand out and stop him, but didn't. "I - wanted to hurt something and I was scared the hyena would.... And Tod was there and he said Silas was having these - f-fights, down at.... Not in the club. And I had to g-go 'cause Vivien was paying me to. I didn't...want to, Spike!" Xander looked up finally and Spike almost recoiled from the misery in his eyes, the accusation and the _loss_. 

"Didn't _have_ to, rabbit! I'll kill that bloody Tod. What next? What'd you do?" 

Xander shook his head - took a deep breath and let it out. "I - went with him. Didn't think.... I heard you talking to Vivien, sometimes. I know you....owed her. And - I know she took me on for - you. I figured....figured I didn't have a choice. There was a fight that night and...it was..." Xander stopped, swallowing, and Spike finally gave in and reached out - touched the twitching, twisting fingers and stilled them.

"Was what, rabbit?" he asked softly, and Xander shuddered.

"It was people. Humans. And I _wasn't_ and I - f-fought and this guy...he...he didn't g-get up, Spike. He didn't g-get back _up_."

"Bloody hell." _*Kill Silas, too. Shiny little bastard. Fucking **hell**.*_

"I didn't want to fight anymore but Silas said I had to and Tod d-did and I was ss-sick and Silas gave me...something. Shot me up with...something."

" _Christ_. Xander. You fucking know better!" Spike squeezed the thin fingers under his hand and Xander tried to jerk away - gave up.

"Fuck off, Spike." Glance up from behind a ragged fringe of hair, eyes burning with anger but still plain brown. Sill not the hyena. "Not like I never did that before. Sometimes - when Oz.... I just wanted to nod out, too. Sometimes we shared. I - didn't care. He had a lot of different shit. It was - kinda nice to just....forget."

"So you forgot me coming to get you, huh? Forgot what we said - forgot everything," Spike said, and Xander closed his eyes for a moment.

"Yeah. Silas said I could go h-home if you came to get me. I just had to c-come back. You didn't...you didn't come, Spike." Xander's hoarse voice dropped to a strained whisper. "You didn't come for days and days and I just kept… _fighting_. I kept fighting and they kept...not getting up and Silas just kept...giving me stuff...." Xander flinched and Spike realized that he'd been squeezing the boy's fingers harder and harder. He eased off - started to pull his hand away and Xander grabbed it, yanked it back, squeezing Spike's hand between his own, his breathing starting to get erratic.

"Why didn't you _come_ , Spike? I just wanted to come h-home -"

"Oh, God -" Spike untangled their hands and pulled Xander to him, pulled him up and held him close, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in Xander's silky, tangled hair. Holding onto him as tightly as he dared. "No, love, no, no, no - that's not right. I was looking for you, Xander, I _was_. Looked for you for _days_. That bloody Tod, he told me he hadn't heard anything, he - fucking _hell!_ Xander - pet, look at me -" He got fingers and then his palm under Xander's chin, got him to lift his head and studied the wary, miserable face for a moment. Leaned in close and kissed him, just a brush of lips over lips. Xander's mouth was cold with tears - chapped and trembling.

"I want you _here_ , rabbit. Want you with me. Want you _always_. I told you that. Told you...I wanted you forever. Hasn't changed." 

Xander took a deep breath and lifted his hand to the necklace and touched it. "What does that mean, Spike? What does that mean to _you?_ What does...I'm not -"

"Shhh...." Spike put his fingers with Xander's on the tattered leather. "It means...means I want you, love. It means you're mine and I'm never giving you up. It means...." Xander was still - so still. Rabbit frozen under the hawk's stooping shadow and Spike had to kiss him again. Reached with both hands and carefully undid the necklace. Xander shivered as it slipped free of his throat, and Spike kissed the revealed flesh tenderly - reverently.

"It means you're mine, rabbit. _Xander_. Means I'm yours. Means...I love you."

 

 

__________________  
Quotes are, in order:  
Richard Adams - _Watership Down_  
Simon and Garfunkel - _The Boxer (Bridge Over Troubled Water)_  
Lewis Carroll - _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_


End file.
